WRAITH
by gorblimey2
Summary: <html><head></head>House's guardian angel is a woman who died prematurely. She is a "Temporary Displaced Life", waiting for a new body, a second chance at life.  House finds out that falling in love with the dead isn't easy.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Wraith**

**Chapter 1**

**Flashes**

Wilson watched as House scrolled through the hospital directory. "What are you looking for?"

"Optomology. I need my eyes checked."

"Problems?"

"Yeah, I keep seeing spots flit in front of my eyes."

"Blood pressure?"

"123/80."

"Hmm."

Wilson plopped down into the chair in front of the desk and relaxed his muscles, enjoying a respite from the horrors of losing a nine year old to brain cancer. He watched the rain falling outside and smiled when a sprig of lightning lit up the sky and the dim room.

House dialed and sat back, staring at Wilson as he thought about his own eye problems. While waiting for someone to pick up, he followed Wilson's gaze and turned to see the lightning strike again, followed very quickly by a helatious clap of thunder. He blinked and there it was again-a flicker in the corner of his eye, like a white feather flittering in the wind lit up by the lightning. His whole body jolted and then he blinked several times to make it go away.

"Seeing it again?" Wilson asked.

House nodded, his palms slightly moist from the adrenalin pumping through his body. He took a deep breath as he listened for someone to pick up the extension.

"Optomology."

"I need to make an appointment."

"We have an opening next month at—"

"No, it might be irreversible if you don't see me now. This is Dr. House."

There was a pause and a cautious response,"Dr. Gregory House?"

"Yeah."

A deep sigh of exasperation escaped the receptionist's mouth. "I'll check. Hold on." A minute passed and she came back. "We can see you in half an hour, will that work?"

"I'll be there."

Wilson already knew when House dialed for the appointment that House would get his way. It never occurred to him that the optometrist might say no. "After your appointment, want to get a drink?" he suggested.

"Yeah. Want to just meet at McGillicuddy's?"

"Sure. Five?"

"Five."

McGillicuddy's wasn't a dive, but it was off the main club circuit. Only regulars and their guests tended to park their butts at the bar. It smelled better than most bars because they tended to sell a lot of cocktails, but there was still enough beer spilled for it to retain its integrity as a bar. House liked it because there was a piano and the bartender let him play on occasions. He was twenty minutes early on purpose.

"Hey Doc, where you been lately?" Eddy, a tall, thin guys with a horselike face, said as he wiped down the bar and began to rinse glasses.

"Around." House nodded towards the piano and Eddy nodded an approval. House took a seat and began to play some blues and jazz numbers until Wilson walked in and sat down at the bar, ordering a gin and tonic and turning to watch House play.

House ended with _"I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm"_ and then took a seat next to Wilson. The bartender grabbed some Jack Daniels and poured it, a free one for the entertainment. House turned and paused when he saw a white light behind Wilson; it was cloudy but not quite without form. There was something in the haze that he was seeing, but he wasn't sure what.

"Crap," House said to himself.

Wilson turned to pay attention. "Crap, what?"

"I'm having those eye problems."

"Maybe you shouldn't drive."

"No, I see everything _and _I see this white fluffy thing."

"You're not seeing Amber are you?"

House rolled his eyes. "I won't even dignify that."

"Okay, then what is it?"

"Don't know." House took a drink and thought about it. _The world's greatest diagnostician and I don't know what's wrong with me._

"How did it go with Cuddy?"

House winced and squirmed a little on the stool. He liked the stools at Mc's, they were large and they swiveled. "Uh…we're on another time out."

"You've been having a lot of time-outs lately. Getting back together doesn't seem to be working. You're in deep do-do this time."

"Yeah, well, what can I say? I just had coffee with her."

"You had coffee with Stacy when she was down last month and coffee with Lydia when she moved back to Princeton. And now, drumroll please, coffee with Cate? You had to have gone out of your way to track her down. What's going on with you? It's like you're purposefully sabotaging your relationship with Cuddy."

House sat and thought a minute about Wilson's observations. It was true; he didn't need to have the House-whisperer tell him that he was consciously throwing road blocks into his relationship. He looked back at Wilson and then saw a woman sitting _on_ the bar. House pulled his head back in surprise. She was staring at him, boredom written in big bold strokes across the contours of her face. She flinched when she realized that he was tracking her, watching _her. _Turning her head away, she slowly slipped off the bar and started to walk towards the door, avoiding bumping into people at all costs.

"Who was that?" House asked.

Wilson turned and looked behind him. "Who?"

"That woman standing by the door."

"What woman?"

"You can't see her because that crowd of Neanderthals are blocking her, but she was sitting on the bar about five feet behind you."

"I didn't see her."

The front door opened. House couldn't see if she left, but he did see a crowd of hot thirtish women enter, taking his mind off the woman.

"Hot babes at two o'clock. A real trifecta."

Wilson turned back to the door again and watched the three women take a booth. It was like a wet dream come true. All were gorgeous and there was a blond, a brunette and a red head. Wilson whistled to himself. "You aren't kidding. Should we make a move?"

"The red head is married—ring on left finger. You like blonds, I'm partial to brunettes, so do we have a plan of attack?"

"Sounds good to me. What about Cuddy?"

"We're just going over to have a drink. It's not like I'm going to ask for a hand job under the table."

Wilson and House approached the women who all turned towards them, indicating with their body language that were receptive to their intrusion. Wilson sat next to the blond as House grabbed a chair and sat at the end of the booth. After an hour, the red head went home to her husband and House moved into the booth next to the brunette. Now on their fourth drink, the foursome was flirting and playful.

The door opened and Wilson looked up. A painful look crossed his face. House turned to see what he was staring at, shoulders collapsing as he closed his eyes.

"House, can I talk to you?" Cuddy growled.

House bit his lower lip and slid out of the red vinyl seat grabbing his cane from then end. They walked outside. Cuddy already had tears in her eyes.

"Why?" She asked.

"Why what?"

"Why are you here, in that booth, with a woman?"

"We didn't have plans so I agreed to meet Wilson for a drink. We were sitting in the booth when the women walked in, Wilson knew one of them, she's gone home to her husband, and we stayed to finish our drinks."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Nothing's going on!"

"I was driving home and saw your car here. I thought I'd join you for a drink and then I find you snuggled in a booth with a gorgeous brunette."

House frowned. "Let's go back in, you can meet the girls and then you'll see we weren't doing anything."

"House, I don't know why you're purposefully meeting up with other women, some of them significant women in your life, and you're making sure I find out. Why?"

"Lisa—"

"No, no. I'm done with this. I need some time to think. I don't want you going with me to my sister's tomorrow…I think we need time apart."

"Lisa, don't do this."

"I have to. I'll talk to you soon." Cuddy turned to leave.

"Lisa!"

But Cuddy walked at a fast clip to the side parking lot and jumped into her car, pealing out of the lot faster than she normally drove. House grimaced as he turned back to the bar. Once back at the booth, he noticed that everyone was very sober.

"She okay?" Wilson asked.

House shrugged. "But I think I need another drink."

"We were going to go back to Lorrie's place . Are you going to be able to drive?" Wilson asked.

"I'll take a cab."

House took a cab—with Nancy—back to Nancy's place where he stayed for a few drinks, a few tongue kisses and then he took a cab home, having left Nancy passed out on the sofa. He wasn't sure if he would have gone through with getting her into bed anyway. He wanted to, but underneath, House felt he owed Lisa more.

The first thing on his agenda was sleep. As he stood hanging his coat, House paused, wishing he knew what he really wanted out of his relationship with Cuddy—wishing he could talk to someone. But Nolan was studying in England and Wilson was screwing his brains out. Closing the door, he saw someone dart into his bedroom.

"Hey!" He grabbed his cane and went running into his bedroom, but it was empty. He opened the wardrobe—nothing. Under the bed—nothing. The room was cool, not cold, just cool. _Bathroom, they must have run into the bathroom. _ House swung open the white panel door and threw back the bathtub curtain only to hear the front door open and close. Running out to the living room, he stuck his head out the door, but the intruder had made a quick departure. Checking the rest of the apartment, there was nothing missing or even rearranged.

After brushing his teeth with his new sonic toothbrush and changing into his striped lounge pajamas, House crashed onto his pillowtop mattress and fell into a deep sleep. His dreams were crazy; he kept seeing Cuddy standing over him, her lips a solid line because they were so tightly pursed. She stood, arms crossed, as he had sex with the three women. Cuddy was directing him, telling him which to kiss, who to fondle, how to screw. He was getting angrier by the minute until he jumped up and walked away in a huff. Cuddy screamed at him, "Where the hell do you think you're going? You haven't screwed the blond." House woke up and thought he heard giggling in his ear. He flipped over, but it must have been a remnant of his dream.

_Christ, now she's telling me who to screw in my dreams._

Getting up, he shuffled into the bathroom without turning a light on and peed, taking pleasure in the fact that his system was almost back to normal. After years of Vicodin abuse his bowels and kidneys had taken some hard knocks, but now he was no longer constipated or having trouble peeing. His last rehab, forced on him by the Board, Cuddy and Wilson, had worked. Nolan had him free of drugs again.

Unable to go back to sleep, he took a seat on the sofa and put his legs up on the ottoman. He had a light headache so he put his hand up to his forehead and pressed to see if pressure would help. A cold air passed over him causing him to look up. He saw a face, or was it a face? It was gone as quickly as it had appeared. House froze; his mind raced. _Hallucinating? Am I hallucinating again? Fuck!_ "I just need sleep—that's all," he said out loud. Debating on what he should do, House decided against taking sleeping pills. He stood up and went into the kitchen and saw the woman from the bar sitting at the table, head resting on her knuckles, supported by her elbow. Her eyes followed him but didn't register that he was following her. The look on her face went from boredom to abject horror. She suddenly realized that he was staring at _her!_ Not the chair, not the table, but _her! _

She was gone and House was drained of all color. The woman had disappeared, but of course she didn't disappear—she had to be a hallucination. _Crap!_

House thought about calling Wilson, but it was midnight and he was either getting his groove on or asleep. He decided to drink some milk and try going to bed again. Pulling the milk out, he looked around and thankfully there was no one. Walking back to the bedroom, he nodded off around two and slept until eight.

Getting into work at ten, House groaned when he realized that he was going to have to pass by Cuddy in the lobby. She turned and looked up just as he walked in through the lobby doors. It was clear from her awkward look that she hadn't expected to run into him. Nodding first, she put her head down, walking past him as fast as her Jimmy Choos could take her. Obviously, she wasn't ready to give him an answer or deal with him.

House spent most of the gray day trying to diagnose a young woman who had been transferred from Princeton General with swollen knee joints, heartburn, involuntary jerky movements of the body, halting and slurred speech and facial grimaces along with a very mild rash that didn't itch. After less than two hours, House had diagnosed an unusual presentation of rheumatic fever and was treating the patient with anti-biotics. Normally, he would brag to Cuddy how he had diagnosed the patient so quickly, but he didn't really want her to know that he had nothing to do. The last thing he wanted was to be assigned clinic duty.

House decided to sneak down to the cafeteria where he grabbed a strawberry-banana smoothie and found a booth with a newspaper that someone had left behind. He became engrossed in an article about the history of jazz in Kansas City, noting that the jazz museum was there and contemplating on taking a trip to Cowtown. After finishing the article, he looked up and saw the same faint outline of the same woman he'd seen last night. She was sitting across from him, but was looking out towards the other tables as if she was bored and watching the world go by.

House blinked his eyes several times, but she didn't disappear. He banged loudly on the table causing most of the people to turn and look. That got her attention. Startled she looked at him and then jumped up and floated through the crowd-_literally floated through the crowd_.

Wilson walked over and sat where she had been. "What's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

House was about to confess that he had, but knew that it would raise all kind of flags that House didn't want to deal with until he was sure—sure that he was hallucinating again. "It's nothing. I'm just tired, not sleeping much."

"Problems?"

"Just stressed."

"When does Nolan get back?"

"Next week."

"Maybe you should call his office and make an appointment?"

House nodded and when Wilson eventually left, he dialed Nolan's office and made an appointment for the following Friday.

"Dr. House, is there something specific that you need to see Dr. Nolan about?'

"Yeah, tell him he's the star of my wet dreams."

"Fine." She said without any hint of surprise or disgust. "We'll see you next Friday."

_Boy is she jaded._

House went back to see Wilson. "Can you give me something to sleep?"

Wilson looked skeptical.

"Just a short term dose…just so I can get some sleep tonight."

Wilson nodded and took out his prescription pad writing him a prescription for five doses of Lunestra. "I'm giving you five pills. If you need more, come and see me and we can talk about something stronger that might help. Have you heard anything from Cuddy? Are you out of the doghouse?"

House shook his head. "No, haven't heard anything yet."

"You don't seem upset."

"I'm not. Frankly, it's been a relief."

"Then why aren't you sleeping?"

"That's the 64 million dollar question. I'm having trouble sleeping, but I'm not disturbed by what's going on with Cuddy." House wanted to add, _And why am I having hallucinations? _

House took a pill that night and managed to squeeze in five hours straight of sleep. He felt better the next morning and decided to go shopping for some new shoes. Nike had two new models that just came out. He enjoyed his sneaker shopping, picking up each new model, turning them over, trying them on, imagining running the New York marathon like he did the year before the infarction. At least he was enjoying shopping until he heard a voice in his ear.

"Why do we always have to go to sneaker stores? Couldn't you buy shoes in a regular store…where I could at least look at some Louboutins?"

He slowly turned his head and sitting in the row of chairs behind his back he saw her. She was slumped down in the chair looking up at the ceiling and blowing her bangs up out of her face. The woman was obviously bored until she suddenly realized he was looking at her. This time she was almost in focus, solid, only the edges were fuzzy. House rubbed his eyes.

"_Who are you?"_

She was gone.

House stood up and looked around just as the sixteen year old brought him the newest Nikes to try on. "Did you see her?"

The kid looked confused.

"The woman, that woman sitting behind me?"

Still dazed.

"Do you have a security camera?"

"Uh, yeah." The kid said quietly.

House pointed out the door. "That woman just stole some shoes. We need to look at the tape."

Still confused, House gave the clerk a look that made him afraid for his life. He scurried to the back where the shoes and the security monitor were. House waited a few seconds and when the kid didn't come out he went behind the curtain to see where he had gone. He saw a twenty-something woman and the kid looking at a small television monitor. House walked up.

"Sir, you aren't allowed—" The woman began.

"Did you see her?" House asked without introduction.

"Sir, there's no one on here…just you."

House walked over and watched the monitor. He saw him sitting in the shoe store and then he turned around, looked at the empty chair behind him, said something to the empty chair and then eventually turned back to the sixteen year old. House could feel his heart start to beat up against his chest.

_Not again. Not again._

House walked out of the store and kept walking through the mall until he couldn't walk anymore. Exhausted, he sat down. Taking his cell phone out, he dialed Nolan's office.

"I need to talk to Nolan."

"Who is this?" The female voice asked.

"Greg House. I need to talk to him."

"Dr. Nolan isn't here."

"_I know that! I need to talk to him. Tell him it's an emergency."_

"I'll try to reach Dr. Nolan, but I can't promise, he's in transit."

"Just try."

House provided her with his cell phone number and then went back to his apartment, waiting for a call. Two hours later, he the phone rang.

"House?"

"Yeah, Nolan?"

"I don't have much time. I'm taking the red eye out of London. What's wrong?"

"I'm hallucinating again."

There was silence.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Well…I think I am."

"Who are you hallucinating about?"

"A stranger."

"Vicodin?"

"No. I'm clean."

"Hmmm. Have you made an appointment?"

"Next Friday."

"I'll make room for you on Monday. Come and see me at nine."

"I'll be there."

"Don't panic; we'll figure this out."

"Yeah, right."

House hung up and sat back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Appearances**

Appointment set with Nolan, House felt relieved, certain that they would figure out what was going on. He allowed his muscles to relax and tilted his head back, closing his eyes and dreaming of the last time he had played golf, when the first twinge of the infarction had hit him on the tenth hole.

"Oh crap." A female voice came from somewhere in the corner of the apartment.

House looked up and saw her floating next to the ceiling, her long hair hanging down around her shoulders rather than hanging towards the floor. He shook his head and looked away.

"You're _not_ having a hallucination." She said matter-of-factly.

"Right, so says the woman suspended from the ceiling."

She appeared next to him. "Okay, now I'm sitting next to you. I'm not a hallucination."

House closed his eyes and started humming to himself.

"Are you humming, _Every Breath You Take?" _She asked, annoyed.

House continued to hum even louder as he clenched his eyes shut.

"I'm not a stalker! Believe me, if I wanted to stalk someone it wouldn't be you."

House couldn't stand it. "Okay, then who are you and why are you here?"

"Can you really see me?"

House opened one eye and turned, spotting a very curious woman sitting on the couch. "Yes, I really see you."

"Wow, that's odd. I mean, I knew this could happen and considering how many years we've been together it was more likely to happen, but I'm surprised it didn't happen earlier."

"Sitting together? You are a total stranger to me; I'm not sitting with you, you've barged in on me."

"No, not quite a stranger. Even you realize there's something familiar about me."

House thought about it and did feel as if the voice was familiar, but he didn't remember meeting her. "We've met before? Christ, what am I doing? Trying to remember meeting someone who floats on the ceiling!"

She chuckled. "I wouldn't say met, but we've certainly been together."

House shook his head. "I don't understand. If you're not a hallucination, why do you look fuzzy around the edges, slink around on ceilings and disappear into thin air?"

"Because I'm dead, idiot."

"Dead? Then you _are_ a hallucination, because everyone who shows up in my hallucinations is dead."

"Yeah, but they were dead and gone. I'm dead and _not_ gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"Oh, boy, here we go. You're not going to like this. They're dead and have gone onto a new plane of existence. Some call it Nirvana, some heaven, some another consciousness. They've slipped these mortal coils, I haven't…not completely."

"Oh, Christ, I've hallucinated a ghost?"

"_Hey! We don't call ourselves ghosts!"_

He got up and grabbed a glass, looking up first to see what time it was. _Four in the afternoon- perfectly reasonable hour to start drinking._

"You're killing your liver." She growled as she balled up, her knees tucked under her chin.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know- like what they call you if you're not a ghost?"

"We're called TDLs."

"What?"

"TDL, Temporarily Displaced Lives."

"I thought you were dead."

"I am, but I wasn't supposed to be."

House rolled his eyes and sat down, taking a deep gulp of the gin and tonic. "Oh, this is getting good."

"I was supposed to be one of those to have a near death experience and then come back to life, but a guardian angel screwed up and didn't stop his charge from driving while drunk and hitting a transformer causing the electricity in the hospital to go off line just when the surgeon was supposed to bring me back. The ventilator died and so did I."

"Bull, the hospital's backup generator would have kicked in immediately."

"Not in 1959."

House laughed and shook his head. "You've been dead since 1959?"

"June 11, 1959."

House stopped drinking and sat up, staring at her. "Okay, now I know I'm hallucinating. That's my birthday."

"Of course it is. We're immediately assigned to newborns just before they're born."

"We?"

"Well, there are guardian angels and then there are the TDLs."

"You've lost me."

"Most people get Guardian Angels, but there aren't enough available. So those not assigned a guardian angel get one of us until we're reassigned."

House put his hands up to his temples. "I'm sitting here talking to myself about Guardian Angels."

"Fine, I'll leave since you don't want to listen."

She was gone.

House looked around and sighed. For the rest of the day, he kept looking around, checking all the rooms, staring at the ceiling, worried she'd come back to berate him. Dinner consisted of two eggs sunny-side up and six rashers of bacon in front of the television with several shots of whiskey, neat.

"I hate it when you cook bacon."

House jumped and looked over at the chair. She was sitting cross-legged with one elbow on the arm of the chair watching him.

"No! Not again!"

"I just wanted to ask you not to cook bacon all the time."

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, your arteries don't need it and two, I can actually smell it and it drives me nuts that I can't eat it."

"Why can't you?"

She sighed and then rolled her eyes. "Don't you get it? _I'm dead…I can't eat."_

"You can smell?"

"Yes, but there's nothing for me to put food into. I've tried putting it in my mouth, but it just drops to the floor. So you see, you're torturing me each time you cook bacon."

"And how long has that been?"

"Since you first cooked bacon on that camping trip in '75."

"At Big Bear?"

"Yeah, with Mark Dash."

House smiled to himself. They had convinced their parents to let them take the truck and go camping. They survived on eggs, bacon, beans and potato chips for five days. House had never cooked before which resulted in him burning the first batch of bacon. But by the end of the vacation, he'd perfected the art of crispy bacon.

"Mark Dash…I'd forgotten about that."

"I haven't. It was horrible. Two sixteen year olds beating off to Playboy each night. God, what a nightmare."

House's eyes flew open and then he laughed. "I forgot about that too! Lynn Schiller, the blond playmate of the month…she liked horses, dogs, and wanted a ranch…"

"Yeah, yeah, that centerfold is burned into my brain; you don't have to wax nostalgic."

"You're really in touch with my subconscious; you certainly remember what I've long buried."

"TDLs are like that."

"Okay, I'll play. You said that these TDLs are assigned when Guardian Angels aren't?"

"When someone dies, their guardian angel is freed up for the next life. Guardian Angels usually get first choice of those being born that day. When you were born, the guardian angels had already picked who they wanted. No one wanted you."

House raised and eyebrow and grinned. "I was turned down by the guardian angels?"

"Yeah, they were short a few dozen the day you were born. So any TDL's that are displaced that day are immediately assigned to watch over the next new life. I died at 9:23 pm and you were born at 9:24 pm. I got you."

"You died and immediately had to dog me? Not much time to learn the ropes."

"Well, they look at it this way…you're a baby, how much trouble can you get into? While I'm getting my sea legs being your overseer, you're under constant observation by your mother. The only time I was really required was at night. But, your mother felt so guilty over your origins that she hovered over you even when you were asleep. I don't know how that woman ever lived through those first six months. I don't think she slept more than a few hours a night."

"Do you go through classes or something?"

"No, we have something in common with the babies we're guarding. We learn how to be a TDL by trial and error and some input from the guardian angels we meet. In essence, you and I grew up together."

"So what's a TDL? Why haven't you slipped the mortal coils yet?"

"A TDL is someone who is supposed to be alive, but there's been a screw up. We hang around guarding someone until they find a body for us to slip into."

House snickered. "Oh, this is a great hallucination. I really do have a great imagination. Please continue."

"What do you want to know?"

"You've been waiting 51 years to get a new body?"

She shrugged. "The average is 29, but some of us are just unlucky. One guy I met was on his second human. He's been a TDL for 69 years. They have to match us up to a live person, give us someone who looks similar to what we looked like, same age as when we died, same intellect…try to match the TDL as close as possible to make the transition as easy as possible. Most important, they match you to a person dying in the geographical area you're currently living in so that the transition can be made quickly, before the recipient's body degrades. But, I've only lived where you've lived."

"Lived where I've lived?"

"So to speak. I spent my whole real _life_ in Los Angeles, but when I was assigned you, I went where you went. But there's not too many blond Anglo-saxon women fitting my bill in Japan or Egypt, so they were pretty much stuck with San Diego, Princeton, Baltimore, Michigan…well, you know where you've lived. I'm familiar with those areas."

"So when they dump you in this new body, doesn't the family notice that you're not mom?"

"Well, we're given their memories and ours are pushed so far back that we might as well not have them. Very few TDL's are able to emerge completely after making the transition. They essentially live the recipient's life...but at least it's a life. The recipient actually dies and transitions while we immediately enter the body and take over. When someone's that close to dying, usually the family buys the personality and memory changes as being a result of the illness or accident or whatever."

"Why can I see you now?"

"I'm not sure, but it happens. You're clear of drugs, the leg pain isn't as great and well, we've been together for 51 years. You've finally tuned into my vibrations."

House roared. "God, I should write this down. Harlequin would eat it up."

"You don't believe me?"

"Believe that there are ghosts who substitute for guardian angels just waiting to jump into someone else's body?"He laughed and shook his head vigorously. "Sorry, but I'd have to believe in a life after death which means I'd have to believe in a Supreme Being…not going to happen."

Now she laughed. "Well, the jokes on you then. Because I'm here and until they find me a body, I'm here to stay."

"What happens to me when you get assigned a new body?"

"It's the only time that a guardian angel doesn't get a choice. They're immediately assigned to the TDL. So you'll get a guardian angel. A TDL would never be assigned a mature adult. Adults need too much looking after."

"What's your purpose?"

"We make sure you don't die prematurely. Sometimes we try to influence you to do the right thing, but since you have free will you don't always listen."

"Well someone screwed up with you."

"Wasn't my guardian angel, it was another guardian angel who failed to keep his charge from getting into a car drunk. He hit a transformer knocking out power to my hospital."

"Oh, so you had a guardian angel?"

"Wilbur."

"_Wilbur? His name was Wilbur?"_

"Yes, and he happens to be one of the best."

"Oh, crap. Look at me. I've been talking to myself for twenty minutes."

"Fine! If you don't believe me, I'll leave, but I'm drawn back to you after a period of time so I'll be back."

"Yeah, right."

And she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Above and Beyond**

House enjoyed the quiet of the apartment just long enough to think he might get some sleep, but then there was a knock on the door. Cursing under his breath, House got up and opened it. Cuddy, looking haggard and depressed, gave him a brave smile.

"I needed to see you."

House nodded and let her step inside. "Something to drink?"

"Sure." She walked in and took off her rain coat, draping it over the couch.

"Gin and tonic is on the menu tonight."

"Fine." Cuddy said with a heavy sigh.

"Where's Cuddy minor?"

"With my Mom."

House handed her the glass. "So, what's the verdict? Am I still in the dog house?"

"I still don't know."

"So, why are you here?"

She shrugged and looked around. "I don't know. I just had to see you."

House knew the look; she needed physical contact. She wanted sex. _Why not? _House pulled her into his arms and initiated the contact she craved. Peeling her clothes off in layers, House continued until she was standing in nothing but her panties. She had a firm and flexible body even though her breasts were too far apart and less than pert to be called spectacular. He grabbed her hand and they made their way back to his bedroom, both bringing their drinks.

In bed, House was already enjoying a more than adequate erection. Grabbing a condom, he let Cuddy dress him. She pushed him forcibly on his back and took control by straddling him, enjoying the feel of his firm erection inside of her. Leaning slightly towards his chest, she slid up and down, taking him deep inside each time. House loved when she took charge of the sex; it was a real turn on. Eyes closed, he concentrated on the feel of her muscles caressing his shaft. When he heard her start to moan, he opened his eyes to watch her orgasm but was distracted...by his hallucination, floating on the ceiling looking down, mimicking Cuddy's moaning.

"Oh, God House…oh, yes, yes, yes…harder." Cuddy yelled.

The woman on the ceiling started making orgasmic faces and crying out. "Oh, Greg, that feels so good, eww, move to the left, to the right, upside down, inside out, be what I need you to be, be my _sex puppet."_

House started to hyperventilate, blinking hard to will the hallucination to away. She could tell he was freaking out from the red flush in his face. Putting a hand up to her mouth, the floating apparition pretended to yawn from boredom.

"Are you going to come?" Cuddy asked after it was clear this was taking longer than it should. "House? What's going on?" She could feel his erection fading. "Did you come already?"

House realized that Cuddy was talking to him. "Uh, what? Oh, uh, yeah. I came earlier."

She lifted up and rolled off. "Really? The rubber looks dry."

"I've been jerking off a lot."

"Or banging one of these women you keep taking out for coffee!"

"Oh, come on! I haven't screwed anyone."

"Not even that girl the other night?"

"No, I didn't."

"Then why are you shooting blanks?"

"Alright! I didn't come."

"I don't excite you?"

"You just rode the big guy for five minutes…obviously you excite me."

"Then why…?"

"I'm not feeling well, but I didn't want to disappoint you. You looked like you needed a good time on Mt. Gregory."

She wasn't buying it, but she decided to drop it. Cuddy pulled away to her side of the bed, not cuddling, not feeling especially romantic. House was staring at the ceiling and making faces.

"Are you okay?" Cuddy looked up at the empty ceiling but couldn't see anything.

"Yeah, sure. I just need some sleep."

The TDL was now sitting at the bottom of the bed. House kicked, but his foot went right through her. She laughed at him. "Oh, come on. You really thought that would work?"

"Get out!"

Cuddy flinched. "Fine, if that's how you feel."

House frantically grabbed Cuddy's arm. "No, not you. I was talking to myself. You know…'get out of this funk.' I hate feeling sick."

"Do you have a headache, stomach ache, what?"

"A little of both. I think I have a virus."

"Yeah, you have Cuddyitis—a strong gut feeling that the relationship is toxic," the floating woman said.

House gave her a strong look of disapproval.

Cuddy turned on her side. "House, what's wrong? You're acting weird."

He wanted to tell her, tell her that he was hallucinating, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The disappointment in her face would be too much. House gave her a look and she knew that he was holding back.

"Why won't you tell me?"

The woman, now on the ceiling again, rolled her eyes. "I'm not a hallucination. You're not sick again."

House ignored her and answered Cuddy. "I will, but first let me talk to Nolan tomorrow."

"Nolan?" Her voice went up an octave. "You're having emotional problems? Is it me? Are you having problems with me?"

"Oh, please tell her yes, please." The voice of the ceiling cried out.

"No, I just need to talk to Nolan about something."

"Great, once again you withhold your feelings from me." She swung her legs out of the bed and got up, running around putting on her clothes while she cried.

House finally yelled out, "Okay, okay! I'm having hallucinations."

Cuddy stopped dead in her tracks as her mouth dropped open. "Oh, no! House!"

He had been right. The look of utter disappointment on her face said it all—she thought that he was using again. "I'm not using."

She smirked with disbelief and finished putting on her clothes as she mumbled to herself. Finally dressed, she turned to him. "I need a drug test from you tomorrow, both urine and hair. I can't have you working at the hospital if you're using again."

Now House was pissed. "Yeah, well you can't fire me either. I have a recognized disability and believe me, I'll work the system."

"Yeah, I'm sure you would." Grabbing her purse she was out the door, the sound of it slamming thundering through the apartment.

"Yay! _Ding dong the witch is dead, which old witch, the wicked witch…ding dong the wicked witch is dead—_"

"Shut up!"

"Oh come on. When are you going to admit to yourself that you may love her, but you can't live with her?"

House pulled the covers over his head, but he soon dropped them, discovering that she had taken up Cuddy's position on the bed, lying on the other side, her head propped up on her bent elbow, staring at him, dressed in red flannel pajamas. His eyes met hers and he noticed that she was coming into focus; he could see that her eyes were a dull blue and hair a light reddish blond.

"Why are you tormenting me? Leave me and Cuddy alone!"

"I can't! I can be away from you for awhile, but I'm pulled back to you depending on how much energy I've used up. And frankly, being around that woman sucks up a lot of energy in the room."

"Energy?"

"Yes, depending on what I've done that day, I can't go too far away from you, it can take a lot of energy to get back to your side."

"I don't understand why you have to watch me have sex, even if you aren't real."

"Greg, I've see you from every angle, in every predicament since you were born. I saw you cheat on your friends with their girlfriends, I've seen you in a threesome, I've seen you have anal sex, I've seen you strain on the toilet, I've seen you shit your pants when you were too drunk to do anything about it, nothing you do surprises me anymore."

House felt his face flush red. "Oh God, will no one rid me of this turbulent ghost?"

"I'll disappear, but now that you've seen me, it takes more energy for me to disappear. I have to ramp it up a notch to a higher, energy-sucking frequency before you don't see me. That's why you kept getting glimpses before. I can't stay at that level of energy for very long. I have to bring it back down to normal and when I do, you see me."

"Can't you watch over me from another room?"

"I guess, but then I'm not really watching over you, am I?"

"Well what good have you done me anyway?"

"You're joking, right?"

"From the way my luck has been I'd say no one's been looking out for me over the last fifteen years."

"Besides your friends, including Cuddy who kept you out of jail, I was the one who made you knock over that drink in Donegal's in Baltimore."

"And that did what?"

"One more drink and you would have blown a .10 on that breathalyzer and been kicked out of med school—again. It also would have had you on the road five minutes later and involved in that six car pile up on the expressway."

"Really? _That's it_?"

"I've done so many things for you, you ungrateful hack! I made you bend over Christmas Eve when you tried to kill yourself."

"And that did what?"

"It made you throw up the pills in your stomach. If I hadn't convinced you to stand and then bend over, you would have died."

"I don't remember much about that night, but it is romantic to think that my guardian angel—"

"TDL—"

"TDL made me puke."

"Wilson's coming."

"Why?"

"He's upset, he lost a patient and he needs a friend." She said.

"_And he came here?"_

"Yeah, and did I mention he's a masochist?"

The doorbell rang. House's eyes grew big. _How does a hallucination know that Wilson was coming here?_ House opened the door hoping it wasn't Wilson, but there he was all down in the dumps holding a brown bag with a bottle of Oban whiskey. Holding it up, he presented it to House.

"I need a shoulder to cry on."

"Wrong apartment, but you can leave the whiskey."

Wilson sniggered and walked into the apartment. "So any news on the Cuddy front?"

"She left half an hour ago satisfied, but pissed off again."

Wilson collapsed forlornly into the leather chair, putting his Johnston black leather loafers up on the ottoman. "I swear, don't you two ever just enjoy each other?"

"Hmm, you aren't the first to point that out to me today."

"Really? Who was the other person?"

"A ghost."

"TDL!" She barked at him.

Wilson shook his head. "I'm really glad that you're seeing Nolan tomorrow, I'm worried about you."

"Yeah, me too."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**I'm a Believer**

House slouched into the overstuffed chair across from the one that Nolan usually occupied. He waited while Nolan went to take care of a problem with a patient in one of the wards. He could feel that she was in the room hovering. Looking around, House sighed; the woman was sitting on the edge of Nolan's desk.

"You shouldn't do this. He's going to think you're hallucinating and want to admit you into the loony bin. You'll lose your license again."

"I should lose it if I'm hallucinating. And why am I talking to a ghost?"

"Temporary Displaced Life, TDL."

"I can't keep calling my hallucination, 'TDL', what's your name?"

"Annie Weatherly, but my maiden name was Quinn."

"You were married?"

"Yes."

"What happened to—"

"House? Who are you talking to?" Nolan asked.

House sat up and looked behind him. Nolan's hand was still on the doorknob, but he quickly entered and closed the door behind him.

"Apparently my hallucination is named Annie Weatherly."

"Really? What does she look like?"

He stared at Annie as he described her. "Short, petite, moderate sized perky rack, blond hair, opinionated— I wouldn't kick her out of bed, but if I'm hallucinating, I wish I had chosen a tall dark haired Brazillian."

"Opinionated?"

"Doesn't think I should be with Cuddy; doesn't think I should tell you about her because you'll yank my license."

"Really? Hmmm, if she is a hallucination, then that means _you're _ having doubts about Cuddy. Want to talk about it?"

"I want to talk about the hallucination."

"We aren't sure it is a hallucination yet. It may just be a device you've made up to have a verbal conversation over what you're feeling."

"Well, I wish it would shut up." House paused and looked directly into Nolan's eyes, his face showing the concern he had. "Doc, if I am hallucinating, what's next?"

"We admit you for some intensive therapy…find out what caused this break. It obviously wasn't drugs. It would mean you're experiencing something we haven't dealt with yet."

"Schizophrenia?"

"Perhaps, but you're late even for late onset schizophrenia."

"Maybe drug induced?"

"I take it that you really believe this is a hallucination?"

House grimaced, but nodded.

Annie screamed. "Ahhh! I can't believe you're doing this. He's going to commit you if you don't tell him you're joking."

House ignored her, discussing their previous conversations while Nolan nodded that he understood.

Annie had been running around the room, making faces, screaming at House, even pretending to give Nolan a lap dance. Finally she sat on the desk and sighed heavily. "Fine. I'm going to have to let him in on our little secret because _I'm not going back into that loony bin_. I hated it! The Guardian Angels in there are nuts...they never get to go anywhere so they play horrible pranks on the newbies...and that was me."

In order to see her, House had to stick his head out to look behind Nolan.

Nolan turned around and followed House's visual line. "Are you hearing something?"

"She claims she's going to have to prove to you that she's really a ghost and that she really exists."

"TDL!" Annie barked. "I'm a TDL...can't you get that straight?"

He refused to correct himself.

"So, this hallucination thinks she can convince me that she really exists?"

House closed his eyes and nodded, knowing how stupid it sounded. "Annie, what are you doing?"

Nolan looked at House as he appeared to be talking at someone. Nolan's face clearly showed the concern he had for his patient.

"I'm talking to Nolan's guardian angel to get some info," Annie said.

"Well?" Nolan asked.

"She's talking to your guardian angel to get some information about you."

"Really? So she's a guardian angel?"

"No, she's a temporarily displaced life…someone who died prematurely. Apparently she gets a do over, but she has to wait for the right opportunity to live again."

"I see." But House could tell that Nolan was humoring him for now.

Annie walked up behind Nolan and blew directly on his neck. Nolan jumped and turned around, putting his hand up to his neck. When he saw nothing, he settled back down in his chair.

House pointed at his neck. "She did that—blew on your neck."

"Tell him that when he was 14, he had sex for the first time with Sheila Groveland."

House took a deep breath. "You had sex for the first time when you were 14. It was with some girl named Sheila."

"Groveland." Annie corrected.

"She said Sheila's last name was Groveland."

Nolan's expression froze, he could say nothing.

"See, he's stunned." Annie said, now walking around the chair and putting her face in Nolan's. "Now tell him that he once broke into his neighbor's house and stole their portable record player. He felt guilty for years and when he was twenty-one he bought them a very nice stereo and left it on their doorstep."

"Okay, please don't kill the messenger, but she claims you stole a portable record player from your neighbors and returned a nicer one when you were twenty-one."

There was an audible gasp just before Nolan slammed back into his chair, hand to mouth. "How did you find those things out?"

"Annie told me." House said.

"House, I know you. You have investigators who work for you. You could—"

Annie moaned with frustration. "Fine, he's not going to believe unless I do something physical. Here goes. This is going to take a lot out of me." With that she swiped her hand across the table next to Nolan and the mug he had been drinking from flew in a wide arc across the room, smashing with a loud explosive crash against the wall. Nolan jumped up and looked around, eyes like saucers.

House had a similar reaction but he stayed seated. All of a sudden House's hallucination seemed very real and his whole world as he knew it was swirling in doubt. He swallowed hard and croaked, "Please tell me that you didn't sleep with Sheila and you didn't steal a portable record player."

"Where is this ghost of yours now?"

"Right next to you."

Nolan scrambled through the seating area and across the room away from Annie. He quickly realized how foolish he looked. Swallowing hard he saw that House was both concerned and amused.

"You've got to be kidding. You mean those things really happened?" House asked, praying Nolan would start laughing and stating it was all a practical joke.

Nolan nodded, still looking around the room. "And I didn't knock that mug off the table."

House turned and looked at Annie, who looked very smug.

"Ask him if he needs further proof," she chirped.

"Annie wants to know if you need further proof?"

Nolan was wrestling with his own skepticism. The more he thought, the more he tried to rationalize what had just happened.

"I guess he does." Annie said. "This is going to completely wipe me out, but here goes." She took a pen off the table and carried it slowly across the room towards him. To House he could see her carrying it. To Nolan it looked like the pen was floating in the air towards him. She stopped and held the pen up for him to take.

Nolan stared at the pen, his palms clammy, his forehead breaking out in beads of sweat.

"Is he going to take it? It's taking a lot of my energy to keep this in the air."

"She wants you to take it." House said.

Nolan nodded and took the pen.

Annie turned to House and grinned. "If you guys want to continue to function as professionals, I suggest that you agree that this session never happened and all inferences that you were hallucinating be erased from any records or memos."

House turned to Nolan. "She says we should bury this."

Nolan nodded again. "I'd have to agree. No one would ever believe us."

"Just so I've got this straight, I'm not hallucinating?"

"If you are, then so am I. Joint hallucinations don't happen."

House stared at Annie, his stomach doing flip flops, the hair on the back of his neck raised.

Annie shrugged. "Can we go now?"

"I guess." He whispered.

"What?" Nolan asked.

"She wants to go."

Nolan's head bobbed up and down like a dashboard Jesus. "That would be good. I need some time to get myself together."

"Okay. By the way, you know burglary is a felony."

"My neighbors knew I took their stereo. The next day they kept hearing soul music from my bedroom. They mentioned the music to me, but didn't say anything about the record player. When I left the stereo on their doorstep they thanked me the next time I was home from college. Can you ask her whatever happened to Sheila?"

"She's living in New York, weighs 300 lbs and is the single mother of four children, none old enough to be his." Annie said.

"You don't want to know." House said.

Nolan motioned that he understood.

House stood up and headed for the door, grabbed the door knob and said, "I think we're screwed."

Nolan sighed. "Yeah, I'm going to be processing this for quite awhile. If you need to talk about it; call me."

"Okay." House left, but he felt like he was in a surreal world, everything he thought was concrete was now swamp under his feet.

Annie was sitting in the car waiting for him to open his door. He hesitated but knew he had no choice; if what she said was true, they were going to be together for a long time. Opening the door he climbed in and started the car.

"Well, are you going to thank me?"

"For destroying everything I believed in?" House asked.

"You mean for destroying everything you _didn't _believe in? Does it really bother you that much that there is something beyond this existence?"

"Yes."

"Why? Most people are relieved to find out."

"I'm not; now I have to completely rethink everything."

"Oh, come on Greg, we both know you'll deal with it in your own fashion. You'll get your drink on, play some Crossroads and get a massage with a happy ending."

House started laughing. "I just realized that you know me better than anyone else in my life. You've seen me in all my different incarnations."

"I guess I have. Do you have any questions that you want answered?"

"Why can't I normally see you?"

"We're on a spectral frequency that isn't in tune with the average person. But occasionally when we've been with someone for a long time, the frequencies start to tighten and bam they can see us. You've seen me before, but you dismissed it as just something in your eye."

"When?"

"When you were still with Stacy."

"In the bedroom that night when I was in so much pain? I got up to go to the bathroom and saw something."

"You had just been released from the rehabilitation facility after the infarction."

"I remember it. I thought it was the drugs."

"Yeah, but your drugs had worn off which is why you were in so much pain."

He snickered to himself. "I wouldn't have believed it back then anyway."

"After Stacy left you took so much Vicodin that you wouldn't have seen me even if I had lowered myself down to your frequency."

"Oh, this is way too bizarre."

"Yeah, imagine waking up after dying to find out that you're now the invisible companion of a baby boy while you wait for your new body. Look, I had to help you out back there with Nolan because you're not supposed to go back into Mayfield, but I'm not your trained dog. I'm not going to do parlor tricks for your friends just so they believe you when you have to explain why you're talking to thin air. Understand?"

"You're a pistol, aren't you?"

"I'm no shrinking violet."

"So Annie, you died on the operating table?"

"Uh-huh."

"What was wrong with you?"

"My lungs were punctured from the seven inch blade my husband rammed through my back."

"With your mouth, it makes sense." House looked over at her. "Come on…you can't stop there."

"Watch the road; you're going to get _you_ killed. Why are you going this way?"

"Joe Canal's Discount Liquor Barn is this way. Best prices on all the best whiskeys."

House parked and then walked into the large outlet grabbing a shopping cart. He pulled several different bottles of whiskey off the shelf and put them in the cart while Annie floated over him. He looked up. "Make yourself useful, find the Tanqueray Ten."

"Are you going on one of your gin and tonic sprees?"

"I just like a good one sometimes."

She looked down and then called out, "I see a sign that says gins are on aisle 5."

House headed towards aisle 5. "Hmmm, you could come in handy."

"I don't fetch and carry."

"Yeah, how does that work?" House cruised down the gin aisle and debated on whether he should buy the Tanqueray or Bombay Saphire. He grabbed the Tanqueray as a customer who had watched him walk down the aisle talking to the ceiling, dodged around him and scurried down the aisle.

"What work?"

"The physical world. Can you touch things?"

"We can manipulate the physical world like I did with Nolan, but it takes a lot of energy. I can move things, but depending on what I do, I don't have energy to do much more. I have to rest."

"Ghosts have to rest?"

She disappeared.

"Where did you go?" House looked around, but there was no one.

The manager watched the scruffy man with the grocery cart full of whiskey and gin talking to the air. He called the front clerk, "You've got a schizo on aisle 5, just be careful."

There was no response to House constantly calling her name. "Fine, be that way." He paused. "You're pissed because I called you a ghost. Okay, okay. Do TDLs rest?"

She reappeared. "Not like you do. We always have enough energy to follow our charges, but we may not have enough energy to do anything for them if they need us so we usually recharge our batteries when you're asleep."

"How?"

"We rest by just closing our eyes or by talking to other TDLs and not doing anything related to our charge. We detach ourselves from your world." She watched as he loaded the car with the alcohol and they began their journey back to the apartment.

"What if my world catches fire?"

"Well, we might notice and we might have some energy to give you a nudge to get out of bed or we may not…it all depends. Anytime we have to cross into your world to do something for you it takes a lot out of us."

"So? You're already dead, what's the problem with that?"

"Actually, if we constantly have to do something extraordinary in your world we can lose too much energy to function as a TDL. It means we're replaced and we don't have the energy for our transfer to the new body…we lose our chance to live again."

"Bummer."

"Yeah, bummer."

"Why would a TDL take that chance?"

"They become so attached to their charge that they risk everything to save them from some fate. I've only known of four cases personally, but their souls go to the next dimension without finishing their lives on earth. It's sad because without finishing your life on earth, you don't have all the tools you need for your next plane of existence."

There was a serious eye roll on House's part. "What tools do you need for the next plane?"

"Yeah, yeah you can be sarcastic, but wait until you have to go over."

"I just want to know what tools I'll need."

"Each person needs different ones, depending on their personalities so we 're not sure exactly what's needed; we just know that you have to experience your whole life on earth before moving on. Sometimes, Greg, you just have to have faith."

House stuck his finger in his mouth and pretended to gag.

"Fine, don't have faith, just finish out your life on Earth."

"When am I supposed to die?"

Annie laughed. "I don't know! They don't give us that information because it can change."

"People do stupid things all the time that get them killed. Where were their guardian angels?"

Annie was glad that they were home; it meant he'd start drinking and playing piano and she could take a break from his incessant curiosity. "We can whisper in your ear, drop a thought, give you that nudge, make the right document appear, even change a traffic light, but you have free will and you'd be surprised how often we're ignored. But, we try and usually we manage to avert some emotional or physical disaster."

"You're not very good at your job." House said with deep resentment.

"What? How dare—"

"I've had a crappy childhood, a disastrous love life and an infarction that wouldn't have resulted in muscle death if it had been diagnosed properly. Because of that infarction I've become an addict and had to be hospitalized for a psychotic break with reality. Where the hell were you?" House grumbled as he got out of the car, fishing the bag of booze from the back seat.

Floating next to him as he unlocked the door to the apartment, Annie answered him, "I was the one begging you not to rub your knowledge of your real father in John House's nose, but no, you had to point it out to him when you were twelve and then you wonder why you two drifted apart and your childhood went in the crapper."

"I was just twelve! He was an adult."

"Oh Gregster, you may act like a teenager, but you've never been just twelve. You've always known exactly what emotional buttons to push in people and you loved pushing this one. You were pissed at him for going on a mission when you wanted him to go with you on the Scouts' father and son camp out. So you punished him by rubbing it in that he wasn't your real dad, which of course just drove home how your mother had been unfaithful to him. Your little stunt not only drove a wedge between the two of you, it drove a wedge between them. It wasn't until you left the nest that they were able to rebuild their relationship. You don't know the effect you have sometimes…the repercussions you don't see from what you do and say. But, I do."

House had poured a single malt and was reclining back in the leather chair, his feet up on the ottoman. "Yeah, well what about the infarction?"

"You remember when you finally couldn't take it and Stacy called the ambulance? The ambulance driver was taking you back to PPTH and then he made the wrong turn towards Princeton General. That was me. But, no, you insisted on going to PPTH, so he made the U turn and you ended up there."

"Princeton General? _You wanted me to go to crappy Princeton General?"_

"Oscar Weinberg was on duty in the ER at Princeton General." Her voice grew quieter, "He'd just spent two years on a Fellowship working on a protocol to treat diabetes—"

House shook his head and snorted. "Most leg infarctions are caused by diabetes, he would have recognized it as an infarction and it would have been treated right away rather than two days later."

Annie could see the sadness in his eyes and she felt for him. She nodded.

"Fuck."

"Yeah, FUBAR. I tried, I tried screaming at you, but you were in so much pain, you couldn't hear me."

He smiled at her use of military slang. Closing his eyes, House thought about all the pain in his life and how all the various choices he made had led him to this point in his life.

She wanted to help him, but there was nothing she could do or say. "Play for me, Gregster."

House opened an eye and looked at her. "Why are you calling me that? My friends used to call me that."

"Yeah, your elementary school buddies, Mark and Chuck."

He grinned. "God, I had forgotten about Chuck. He was hilarious, terrible coordination, always falling all over himself. What does he do now?"

"He's a chemist for Pfizer."

"I'll be damn!" House thought for a minute. "Well? What do you want me to play?"

"Play the piano for me. I want to hear some old forties tunes."

"Forties?"

"I was in my twenties when the war was on. It's the music I fell in love to."

"You were telling me how you died."

"My husband stabbed me in the back puncturing my lungs. Just when they were going to re-inflate them on the operating table the electricity went out and I coded. I was supposed to live."

"What happened to your husband?"

"They convicted him on voluntary manslaughter. He went to prison and died two years later, a year before he would have been released."

"If you hadn't died, he wouldn't have gone to prison and he wouldn't have died prematurely?"

"No, he died of an aneurism. He would have died anyway. There were no do-overs for him."

"So you died because you were too stupid to get away from a raging lunatic?"

"I had a restraining order and we moved several times, but he always found us. Back then domestic violence wasn't taken seriously. The phone company gave out my private number and address as soon as he told them we were married. I can't tell you the number of migraines I got because of the stress of staying out of his reach."

"We?"

"We, what?"

"You said, 'we moved', who's we?"

"My son. He was eleven when I was murdered. He went to live with my sister."

"So where is he now? Do you haunt him and his family? Is he some middle aged insurance broker living in Los Angeles?"

"He died in Viet Nam in 1968."

House looked away, unable to face her.

"It's okay. It's been forty-three years now. I've accepted it."

"Did he have any kids when he died?"

"No, no grandkids."

"God, this is depressing."

"Play for me."

"What would you like to hear?"

"Harbor Lights."

House stood up, took his drink to the piano and began to play, the soft sound of Harbor Lights flowing through the air and bringing a smile to both of their faces.

"I love it when you play."

House paused, shook his head as if he still didn't believe this and began playing again. "Do you play?"

"I did."

"Were you good?"

She grinned. "Better than you!"

House stuck his tongue out at her but continued to play old forties' tunes.

**Dear Readers,**

**I'm having trouble with document manager. It won't let me edit or see my post so that I can information or a salutation to you. I'm doing this on the original document in my word processor. It's absolutely annoying because the chapter has uploaded, the fanfic program just won't let me view it before I post it.**

**I wanted to thank you for leaving reviews. Reviews give us feedback and encouragement. I appreciate all of them. Thanks, Kim**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**The Beat Goes On**

"Annie? Where are you?" House sounded perplexed.

"I'm in the bathroom, why?"

"Just wondering." Walking into the bathroom, House saw her sitting on the edge of the bathtub, elbow on her knee. "Which tie?"

House stood in front of her holding up two ties, one red striped and the other a paisley silk with mostly blues and greens. She pointed to the paisley. "You look better in blue."

He turned and went out to the bedroom yelling over his shoulder, "Why are you in the bathroom?"

"I just needed a break for a few minutes. Don't you get tired of having me around?" She asked, floating into the bedroom to watch him put on the tie.

"Why would I?" Although, he knew why. Sometimes he did feel suffocated having someone always hovering over him. He turned to look at her. "Do you really need a break?"

"It's been weeks of non-stop questions. I'm not used to conversing with people let alone talking non-stop for days. Don't you think we could give it a break?"

"Meow…aren't we touchy today. Who spiked your cauldron of porridge?"

"Gregster, really. You're going to have to be careful today…try _not _to talk to me in public again. Nolan was nice enough to tell Cuddy you haven't had a psychotic break and you aren't hallucinating, but if you keep talking to me in public, people are going to think you're schizophrenic."

"I could care less."

"Yes, I know, but then it alters the way your life is supposed to go if they do."

"And how is that?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure you aren't supposed to lose your reputation as a brilliant diagnostician because you talk to someone that isn't there. Are you ready to face the board this morning?" She floated through the walls and out to the motorcycle watching as he exited the apartment door, putting on his helmet.

"This whole hearing is a joke. Taub did what he thought he should do. He'll be fine."

"I hope so. Taub is a good doctor and he doesn't deserve this."

"Yeah, yeah. You'll be there, right?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "I'm always there, well, almost always there, you know that."

"I just want an audience. I do my best testifying when I know someone's watching."

Annie chuckled as she floated next to him, the motorcycle roaring through the streets of Plainsboro. "You're ...well you're you. So, you're having dinner with Cuddy tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, maybe Nolan's phone call will smooth things over between us."

"You want to get back together with her?" The disapproval in her voice wasn't lost on House.

"Why don't you think we make a good couple?"

"Cuddy is smart, pretty, nice body, responsible, but you two don't share anything in common except work and even that's always confrontational. Ask yourself, since the two of you have gotten back together, have you gone one week without worrying that your relationship will implode? Both of you tip toe around the other, afraid that at any minute you're going to do something that's going to screw up the relationship. That's not a relationship. Remember how it was with Stacy? You felt comfortable enough in the relationship with her to tease her, argue with her, ignore her. Cuddy's skin is too thin, she thinks anything you do or say is some sign that your relationship isn't working."

"We're just getting our sea legs." He yelled over the roar of the engine.

"It's been off and on for over a year! By now you should be looking for ways to spice it up, not still be feeling each other out. Look, it's your love life, but she's expecting a ring soon or she's going to walk."

"_What?"_

"She told her sister that she was getting tired of waiting for you to ask her. She's not going to wait much longer. So, if you want to keep her, you better start talking about marriage."

"Are you allowed to tell me these things?"

"Yes. Now that you can hear me on the same frequency it makes it easier for me to get my message across."

"So exactly what is your message? Dump Cuddy or buy a ring?"

"I just want you to be happy, like you were when you and Stacy first moved in together."

"Yeah, well that didn't last."

"She made a bad decision."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The decision to remove your muscle...that was a bad decision. They had to take out some of the good muscle to get all of the bad out. You were right; you would have survived without the operation. I tried to get her guardian angel to keep her from doing it, but the guardian angel didn't like you, so he refused."

"So he didn't whisper anything to her one way or the other...the decision was all hers?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Why do you like Stacy so much?"

"Because you laughed—a lot, and loud! I love it when you laugh, you don't do it often enough."

House thought about it and had to acknowledge that Stacy was able to make him laugh when they were in the early years of their relationship. But it didn't stay that way. "Even before the infarction things were cooling between us."

"Yeah, but all relationships cool and need to be re-evaluated."

They had arrived at the hospital and House went straight to the conference room where he could see Cuddy and Taub inside with the Board of Directors. He took a seat in the hall with his back to the conference room.

"I still don't understand why I started to withdraw from Stacy; I really did love her."

"Yes, well things cooled with Stacy when she fell in love with someone at work and I think you could sense it."

House jerked. "_She was having an affair?"_

Annie looked around to see if anyone had heard him but they were somewhat isolated in their own waiting area. "No, I didn't say that. He was married and to be fair to both of them, he never encouraged her and she never really pursued him. But there was definitely a spark when they had to travel together. She felt terribly guilty; she loved you enough not to cheat on you, but she couldn't stop the attraction to the other man."

House was fuming. "Who was it?"

"None of your business now. You're lucky; she loved you enough not to act on her feelings."

House shook his head. "Why do you tell me these things?"

"Because you thought it was you, but it was really _both of you_ and because you thought you were lousy at relationships, you've tortured yourself unnecessarily. Crap, here comes my least favorite guardian angel."

"What?" House turned to see Cuddy coming straight towards him.

"It seems to be going well. They want to talk to you in a few minutes. Are we still on tonight?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Rachel is staying with my sister for the weekend. Why don't you pack a toothbrush and come over to my place? I'll cook."

Annie stood behind Cuddy with a finger down her throat pretending to gag and choke.

House, trying not to stare at Annie, concentrated hard on looking at Cuddy's face. "What time?"

"Six-thirty?"

"Sure."

Annie bumped Cuddy's arm and the file she was holding spilled out. Bending over to pick the papers up, Cuddy was having difficulty reaching down because her skirt was so tight. The seams were straining. House looked over and saw Annie close her eyes tight and then there was a sudden sound of clothing ripping.

"Ahhh!" Cuddy screamed reaching back to hold her seam together. "Oh my God!" She looked at House who was bent over laughing.

"I'm sorry, but that's what you get when you buy clothes at a brothel."

Cuddy was too busy looking around to see if anyone else had noticed to comment on what House was saying. Running off to her office, Cuddy was still mortified. Searching around, House saw Annie talking to the air, but he couldn't hear anything.

"What are you doing?"

Annie waved House away. House stood back and then heard someone behind him.

"Dr. House, you can come in."

House turned to see Vance Marston, one of the Board members, standing holding the door to the conference room open. "Have you seen Dr. Cuddy?" He asked.

"She had to take care of a few loose threads."

"Oh, well, I don't think she'll mind if we keep going. Please come in."

House walked towards the door and then turned back to look at Annie. She was still arguing with someone he couldn't see or hear. It made him curious, why wasn't she coming with him? What was so important that she was out in the lobby arguing with someone he couldn't see? The chairman pointed to a chair on the opposite side of the board, but House took a seat on the same side so that he could see out into the lobby. The board members all looked around at each other wondering who would tell the recalcitrant doctor to move to the other side. Since no one did, Jacomo Bazini, the chair, began.

"Well Dr. House, Dr. Taub has given us his version, why don't you tell us what you saw the day John Capshaw was admitted to the hospital?"

There was a pause as House continued to watch Annie through the glass. She was positively livid, her face screwed up like a wrinkled prune as she wagged her finger in the air. House stood up to get a better view. The board did likewise, trying to see what had captured his attention. They strained to look out in the lobby, but there was nothing to see. The Board members shook their heads at each other. After a few moments, House pushed his chair back and went out to the lobby.

"Annie? What's wrong?"

Annie stopped midstream and turned to look at House. Behind him she could see the entire board standing on their feet staring out at House who was staring _and talking _at her.

"Oh, good God! Look what you've done, Greg. The entire board is watching you. Don't say anything to me, just turn around and go back in before they think you've gone bonkers."

"Who are you talking to?" House asked.

"Me? Cuddy's Guardian Angel, now get back in there."

"What's going on?"

"We're fighting over whether Cuddy and you should be together. Now get your butt back in there."

"What is she saying?"

"It's not a she. Greg, the Board is watching."

House turned and looked at everyone staring at him. He shrugged and went back inside, but he was distracted on several occasions by Annie's arguing and eventual pouting. The board could tell that he wasn't interested in answering questions so they eventually wrapped it up. Luckily for Taub, Cuddy's testimony along with Chase's had cleared Taub of any wrongdoing in the death of the patient and they were only asking House because he was the supervising attendant and it was required.

House, walked back to his office and closed the blinds. Sitting in his comfortable chair, he looked up at the ceiling and saw her floating above. "What did Cuddy's guardian angel say?"

"You really don't want to know."

"_I really do." _

"Okay, he said you were a narcissistic bastard and that he was doing everything in his power to dissuade Cuddy from getting back together with you."

"Like what?"

"The usual, whispering things in her ear when she's sleeping. Making sure she finds out when you're lying. Steering her so that she runs into people who hate your guts…the usual."

House thought about it for a minute and then asked, "Why are you so upset? You don't think we should be together either."

"Yeah, but I don't think you should be together because _both _of you are at fault, not just you. She's just as wrong for you as you are for her."

"You're upset because he's dissing _me?_"

"Maybe." She looked sheepish, as if she shouldn't be arguing over it and she knew it.

"I can't believe that anyone would actually stick up for my behavior in a relationship."

"You know, Greg, half your problem is that you believe your own press. When you love someone, you can be self-less, kind, gentle, protective…all the things that a woman hopes to find in a man. Cuddy was wrong when she said you couldn't be there for her. Remember when Stacy's mother died? You stuck by her side the whole time. When Stacy screwed up the interview for judgeship, you had her laughing that night. Cuddy and her guardian angel can go screw themselves."

"Will you marry me?" He said giving her puppy dog eyes and pouty lips.

"Ha, ha."

"No, thanks for being so protective."

"It's my job."

"No, arguing with a guardian angel about my virtues isn't in your job description."

"Maybe. Are you going to behave for the next hour? I'd like to go rest for awhile."

"Sure."

For most of the day, House saw Annie, but from a distance. She looked depressed and prickly. When he arrived home that evening he found Annie floating with her eyes closed on the ceiling over the piano. He quietly put everything away and then popped a plastic bag, startling Annie and causing her to curse.

"You're sleeping on the job."

"I've been talking more in the last few weeks than I have in fifty-two years. I've had to do physical acts to keep people from thinking you're nuts and I've been in an argument with a guardian angel—not something I'm supposed to do. I'm exhausted."

"Well, you can relax tonight; I'm going to stay over at Cuddy's."

"I know. I'll be there."

"You don't have to come, unless you need some pointers on novel sexual positions."

She flipped him off.

Arriving at Cuddy's, House walked in without knocking and immediately went to the kitchen, following the smell of meat cooking. Cuddy was bent over, in a pair of tight slacks, taking the roast out of the oven. House gave her a swat on her bottom and smiled when he heard her curse.

"Damn it, House, I'm handling something hot!"

"You look good."

"You mean my ass looks good. Thanks." She stood up and straightened her apron. "You like Bok Choy, right?"

Annie grimaced, her face puckered in distaste. "Yuck."

House grimaced. "Not really, but for you, I'll eat it tonight."

"Yeah, is that the only thing you're going to eat of hers tonight?" Annie snickered.

House gave Annie a look telling her to shut up.

"Fine, I'll just sit over here and behave." Annie said, floating over to the other side of the kitchen. House had to smile; Annie had dressed herself in what could only be called an Alice in Wonderland outfit, a blue gingham dress with a white apron complete with white stockings and Mary Jane patent leather shoes. What it was supposed to represent, he wasn't sure.

Cuddy nodded. "Good, because that's the only vegetable we have to go with the pork roast."

After they both set the table and House opened the wine, they sat and ate dinner in the formal dining room, talking mostly about work, a little about Rachel and a lot about Wilson before Cuddy turned her attention to the elephant in the room.

"Greg, we need to make some decisions about us."

"I agree."

"I can't take you back unless you agree to—"

House held up a hand. "Stop," he said softly. "I'm sorry, no more demands for changes, no more threats, no more walking on eggshells. I love you, I really do. But, neither of us can change enough to make this work. We both walk around wondering if what we say or do is going to be the end of our relationship and that's not really a relationship."

Annie started fist pumping into the air and dancing around. House tried hard not to look at her but she was directly behind Cuddy.

Cuddy was taken aback, but not ready to throw in the towel. "I know this hasn't been easy, House, but we're both older, we know each other too well. Maybe we should go away together, away from the hospital—"

House finally couldn't handle it. "Stop dancing around!"

Cuddy threw her napkin down. "I'm not dancing around the issue; I'm trying to save this relationship."

House looked back at Cuddy. "I…I know. But if we dance around the real issue, we'll just keep making each other miserable."

"The real issue?"

Annie stopped dancing and waited for him to tell them both what the real issue was.

"The real issue is that I'm not going to change for anyone and you really need someone who's not going to embarrass you at work, in front of your friends, in front of your family and you deserve someone who can hold your hand through the rough patches and even though I try to be there for you, I never seem to measure up to what you expect out of a man."

Annie walked around and saw how devastated Cuddy looked. It suddenly hit Annie just how much she really liked Cuddy and admired her, but knew from day one that she was going to try and change Greg and that it wasn't going to work. But now that it was over, Annie felt sad for both of them. They did love each other, but it wasn't enough. Would it ever be enough to just love Greg?

Cuddy stared down at her hands and tried hard not to cry, but the tears came flowing anyway. House reached across and took her well manicured hand in his and squeezed it.

"I'm sorry Lisa, really. I do love you, but you need someone who isn't quite the asshole I am."

She chuckled through her tears and Annie thought that she was very brave for not getting mad or insisting that he leave. "I'm worried about Rachel. She's very fond of you."

"I like the kid too, but she'll get over it. Besides, I'm not opposed to watching her on occasion or us all going places together. I'm hoping we can take back our friendship from the ashes of our relationship."

She nodded, but the tears still fell.

Annie shook her head and whispered, "Crap, I really feel sorry for her. She loves you so much, but she obviously thinks you're right about the relationship; she's not protesting very hard, is she?"

Cuddy's lack of protest had not been lost on House. He knew that Lisa was no fool and had probably come to the same conclusion in her heart, but being the overachiever she was, couldn't give up without a fight thus she had invited him over to lay down some ground rules.

"Having said that, do you still want me to spend the night?" House asked.

She looked at him as if he was crazy but then her demeanor changed. He could see she was mulling over the idea of having break-up sex. But would it be too painful?

"I could use the release, but holding you and knowing it's over might be too much."

"We don't have to talk..."

She let out a laugh that made House smile.

"I think it would probably be better that after we eat you leave."

He nodded. "Do you still want me to watch Rach next Wednesday?"

"If you don't mind. It's not like you're going to be completely out of our lives."

"Sure."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Keeping Company**

On the way home, Annie was quiet. It was House who broke the silence. "So, are you happy?"

"I don't know. I feel for both of you, but if you hadn't ended it civilly tonight, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have ended well. More importantly, you'd probably be looking for a new job. As it is, you keep your friendship and your connection with Rachel."

"Like I need a connection to a three year old."

Annie chuckled. "Greg, you know you enjoy her...at least in small doses. It's good for both of you that she stays in your life."

"Maybe." He conceded reluctantly.

Annie softened her voice. "Are you okay?"

House looked over in the passenger seat where she was sitting, her body wavering slightly. "I must be tired because you're a little out of focus."

"That will happen from time to time. Now, are you going to answer my question?"

House sighed as he shrugged his shoulders, unable to look at her. "I'm disappointed; I thought that after so many years of knowing each other, she would have accepted me for who I am."

"She wanted to, Greg. She really does love you. But her identity is wrapped up in her career which she spent most of her life building. She has a choice, love you and possibly lose the reputation and career she's carved out for herself or let you go. It's a terrible choice, no wonder she was hoping you'd change."

"I tried."

"I know. I don't think Lisa or James know how much you did try to tow the line."

He gave her an appreciative look accompanied with a sad smile that acknowledged the end of something he had wanted in his life for a long time—someone to love.

"Greg, don't look like that. You still have time to find someone," she said reassuringly.

"Pfff. I'm 52 rapidly approaching 53, who's going to want me?"

"I don't know, but you shouldn't give up."

"Well, I'm just glad that I didn't throw out my escort numbers."

"Oh, God, not the young hookers."

"You don't like Paula? Tiffany?"

"Paula's actually graduated from college; she's too old for you now."

"Hmmm...you may be right."

"Oh, God, you're disgusting."

House laughed and then got out of the car. Opening the door to the apartment, a warm rush of air greeted him as he turned on the overhead light, finding Annie waiting for him, floating above the piano. He went straight into the kitchen and pulled out a glass. Walking over to the cabinet, he pulled down the Oban single malt whiskey and poured a drink. As he started sipping, he took a seat on the couch and turned on the television.

"I'm going to go rest." She said.

"You don't think I can get into any trouble sitting here?"

"Greg, you could get into trouble anywhere. Do you plan on getting into trouble?"

"No, not tonight. But, I thought you might like to watch a movie with me."

_He needs company. _"What movie?"

"You could choose."

"Which ones are there?" She motioned to his box full of recently purchased dvds.

"_The Fighter, Inception, When Harry Met Sally—which I bought for Cuddy, Born Yesterday and Smoke Signals_."

"Smoke Signals. I haven't seen that movie in awhile."

"Yeah, me neither."

"Remember when we first saw it?" She asked.

"It was just before the infarction."

"Yes, you and Stacy went to the art theater and saw it. I was sitting beside you. You kept burping up your curry."

He smiled. "It's so bizarre to think that someone has shared every memory I have, seen every movie, studied every subject, watched every play, musical, concert, listened to everything I've said...talk about having a lot in common."

"But I haven't tasted or touched or lived through everything that you have, just witnessed it."

"Still, I talk to you and you know what I'm talking about, understand where I'm coming from."

"Most of the time. You still have the ability to surprise me."

House started _Smoke Signals_ and as the credits played he turned and asked her, "Why did you marry a guy who eventually killed you?"

"He was a good guy when we started out. A few years after our son was born he lost his job and started drinking. His whole personality changed. When he started to get physical I tried to get the police to do something; but it was the fifties and it was generally thought that a man had a right to get a little rough with his wife."

"Ah, the good ol' days."

"When I ended up in the emergency room the first time I decided it was time for me to take our son and run. I did and—"

"Where in Nam did your son die? Where is he buried?"

"Da Nang. My son was buried in Arlington. You and I were in Guam while your dad was flying sorties in Viet Nam. My son died the same day that John House's jet engine caught fire. "

"I remember when we got his letter telling Mom about that. I think he was hit—"

"No, it was a broken fuel pipe, improper tightening by the crew but he had to ditch his plane in enemy territory. He was rescued hours later."

"Really. Hmmm, I don't remember that. When your son died what happened? I mean on your side of the veil."

"He went straight on to the next plane. I saw him as he passed over for a brief second. We exchanged our feelings of love and he was gone and I was back with you."

"After your husband went to prison who raised your son?"

"My sister raised Jeffrey. She did a great job, he turned out well."

"He turned out dead."

Annie rolled her eyes. "Besides that."

They sat back and watched the movie and when it was done, House stood up and quickly put in another movie.

Annie said, "_Smoke Signals_ is such a good movie. I forgot how much I liked it. What are we watching?"

"_The Ghost and Mrs. Muir."_

"Very funny. No, really, what are we watching?"

"_Poltergeist_."

Annie shook her head and moaned.

The movie, _The Fighter_, started.

They had been watching the movie for about half an hour when he asked out of the blue, "Hey, can you still pleasure yourself?"

Annie furrowed her brow and sneered. "_Are you asking me if I masturbate?"_

"Sure, masturbate, scratch the kitty, self-gratify, pet the beaver—"

"I get it!" She sighed the sigh of a woman who hated the intrusion but knew he wouldn't stop until he had his answer, "I don't masturbate."

House shook his head. "Wait, you _can't _ masturbate or you _don't _masturbate?"

"I just don't masturbate. Look, I know it's old fashioned, but in my day you just didn't touch down there unless you were a pervert."

"Well, that's just pathetic. But let's put that aside, I want to know if you can feel physical things?"

"I can't exactly feel from your plane, but on my own side of the veil I have some sensations, but that's because I'm in between passing over and being alive. If I were a guardian angel, I wouldn't feel anything."

"So if you touched yourself, you might have an orgasm?"

"I don't know, I don't care, now watch the movie or let's go to bed. I need to recharge."

"What's up with you?"

"I don't know...I feel...sad. Don't you?"

"Christ! I'm the one who broke up with her, not you."

"But that doesn't mean I don't feel for both of you. In fact, we often feel more because we tend to absorb the feelings around us to buffer our charges from their own feelings. I've done it a few times with you, but sometimes your emotions are just too overwhelming. Now, are we watching or sleeping?"

House picked up the remote and turned off the television. "Come back with me."

"Where?"

"Come back and talk to me while I try and sleep."

House went back to the bathroom and prepared for bed. Annie was lying on her side of the bed waiting for him to climb under the covers. He crawled in and stared up at the blank ceiling. "Annie?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you think I'll die alone?"

Annie took in a sharp breath and swallowed. "Not if I can help it. If I'm your assigned TDL when you die, I'll be right there holding your hand—so to speak."

"Can you touch me?"

"I can move energy over and through your body, sometimes it can move you, but typically it will just feel like a 'funny feeling' that most people easily dismiss."

"Touch me."

"Greg, this is ridiculous. You probably won't even notice it. I don't have enough energy left right now to do anything too fancy."

"Touch me, Annie."

Annie leaned over and looked at him. He was obviously sad so she automatically reached up as she had many times when he was a child and put her hand on his cheek, leaned in and kissed his lips.

House smiled. Her touch, her lips, they felt like a pleasant form of static electricity. "I can feel you." He sounded like an excited child who has just been tickled by a feather for the first time.

She grinned. "Are you happy?"

He nodded. But then he absent mindedly put his hand up to her cheek and felt nothing but air. Disappointed he pulled his hand back and put it on the bed. "Annie, I really meant, do you think I'll ever find someone on this plane- a live person who will hold my hand when I die?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I do know that you deserve someone. You don't think so, but you do. You have to understand, I've seen you in _every_ relationship and, although you still need to learn how to meet the needs of the women you love and stop being so selfish, you still have a very tender, romantic side and you're very witty. I've enjoyed your company despite days when I wished I could walk out, leave you; but then you sucker me right back in with your vulnerability and desire to be human and I want to stay with you, protect you. You're like Spock, there's a wonderful human in you just dying to get loose but you keep stuffing him down."

House rolled his icy blue eyes. "You and Wilson- always analyzing me."

"No, I'm just telling you that you deserve someone."

"I'm tired of this topic, what did you think of our cooking class, the one Wilson and I took together?"

"Obviously, I didn't taste it, but according to everyone who ate your food, apparently you are a real talent."

"Are you a good cook?"

"I'd like to think so. I used to get a lot of compliments."

"What was your favorite class in med school?" He asked.

"Oh, that's easy, Richfield's class."

House perked up. "Infectious diseases?" House looked out into the air, remembering a stadium-style classroom filled with second year med school students who watched House and Richfield spar as if they were players at Wimbledon. Half the class was spent in arguments with his teacher. "He and I got into some helatious fights."

"Yes, but he enjoyed them."

House cocked his head. _"He did?"_

"After class he used to tell all of his colleagues about you; how brilliant you were, that you were a mind to watch, a joy to fence with. He gave you an A, why does it surprise you that he liked you?"

House shrugged. "It just seemed that we didn't agree on much."

"Oh, he was baiting you. Your arguments made the class interesting to everyone else. He claimed that the class scored substantially higher on the exams because of the lively debate."

"He was way off based on his pandemic theory." House said with the authority of twenty years of medicine under his belt. He looked at Annie and could see that she was smiling, remembering their days in med school. He felt so comfortable around her, so at ease. He didn't have to be anything that he wasn't to please her. _She knew him._

"Oh, the statistical analysis of how it spreads?"

"Yeah, I proved that it would have to spread faster."

"Yes, you did, but Richfield's dead. Maybe you could spray paint, _'I told you so' _on his gravestone. Can we go to sleep now?"

He nodded, wishing she would stay up longer. He felt safe and calm with her and tonight he needed that. Tonight he was pretty sure he had ended any chance he had at finding someone to love. But he could tell that she was exhausted, needed to recharge her batteries. It wasn't fair to keep her up just to make him feel less guilty and miserable. He picked up the remote and turned off the movie, putting Jay Leno on instead. Nodding, he said very gently, "'Night, Annie."

"Good night, Greg."

**Thanks to those who are leaving reviews...it gives me the push to keep posting. Thanks so much!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Piano Music**

House was playing around on the piano after a long day at work, trying to compose a new arrangement for _Putting on the Ritz. _Annie was floating above, eyes closed, trying to get some rest.

She opened her eyes. "Greg, would you play _Begin the Beguine _for me?"

"Why?"

"I don't know; I just love the song."

"I guess you would, that was popular right around the time you were in your twenties, right?"

She nodded.

He played and she sang. "You have a pleasant voice."

"Thanks."

"Any other requests?"

For the next three hours they alternated between playing music from the thirties, forties and the fifties and discussing everything under the sun- infectious diseases, singularities in space, the theory of jazz, Wilson's wives, Chase's hair. Fatigue finally caught up with House, his body exhausted from the constant adrenalin pumping while he tried to diagnose his patient earlier that day. He yawned and motioned to the bedroom, so they retired for the night. As his eyes began to close, House realized that he hadn't been this intellectually stimulated in years, not since his internship at Hopkins. Annie was articulate and opinionated, but rarely took offense when he called her a moron or other names. She dished it right back, calling him names he had to look up in the dictionary the next day.

Over the next few months House found himself spending substantially more time at home with Annie doing things with her. He bought several books of sheet music for songs from the early and mid twentieth century. When they tired of music, they played games with House moving the pieces and turning up the cards for Annie. They went to movies; House occasionally letting Annie pick the movie after she complained—often waking him up in the middle of the night to complain so that he got the point. It was an odd feeling when he'd show up, apparently alone, at a chic flick. The looks he got both amused and annoyed him. One night a woman took the seat that Annie was in and House almost lost his cool, but Annie simply hovered above as they watched the show. House patted his lap to let her know she could sit on his knee. She laughed, shook her head and continued to hover just above the person to his right, so he could see her.

Wilson and Cuddy were becoming concerned, meeting several times to discuss the one concern they had in common—House's mental status. Both worried that he was becoming a hermit, albeit, if he was, he was a happy hermit. Everyone had noticed and commented that, although House was still acerbic and rude, he hadn't been outright cruel in months and had even had moments of levity and compliments for the team.

It was a weekday night. During a commercial break, Annie broached a delicate subject while they watched a re-run of Star Trek, "Greg, you need to have a night out with Wilson."

House, sitting in his boxers and a t-shirt, a wine glass in one hand, was reclined with his legs in front of him. They were suspended by the ottoman which couched his long, narrow feet. "Why?"

"You're spending too much time at home with me. People are beginning to talk about you at work. Your friends think you're sulking over the breakup with Cuddy."

"So?"

"It's been months since you went out on a date. You need human companionship."

"I have human companionship at work and on Tuesdays."

"Your team and poker games with three strangers doesn't count."

"Why not, Wilson comes to the game sometimes?"

"Because it consists mostly of gambling, drinking and gorging on carbohydrates. Very few words actually get spoken."

"Men don't need a lot of conversation. It's a guy thing."

"Still, why don't you grab Wilson and go find yourself some female companionship?"

He laughed. "I have female companionship twenty-four/seven or have you forgotten that you're a woman?"

"I'm dead, Greg."

"You're a very lively dead woman. Sometimes I understand why your husband took a knife to your back."

"That's a cheap shot."

"Annie, you do talk a lot."

In reality, House talked as much as Annie. They found conversation to be easy between them, but Annie was miffed when he complained about it, "Fine, I won't talk unless spoken to. I'll keep my answers brief and stop annoying you with my incessant chatter."

She disappeared. House knew he was being punished. Despite the fact that he actually enjoyed the conversations tremendously, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of telling her how much pleasure he received from her company. He not only appreciated her razor sharp intelligence, but Annie's humor was a strange mixture of home-spun jokes laced with sarcasm and strange historical references, all which would normally be incongruent, but worked when it came from Annie. He yelled out, "Great, maybe I'll get some peace!"

That night when the Poker boys showed up, Annie stood behind the players and looked down at their cards, smiled at House and then floated out of the room. House knew she was probably watching the new television he had bought her when she complained that they always watched the programs he liked. The day after she complained he walked into the nearest _Best Buy_ and checked out a 32 inch Samsung LED television before looking around for someone to help him.

Annie shook her head in puzzlement. "You have a new flatscreen in the living room. It's less than a year old. Why do you need this one?"

"This is so you don't hassle me anymore."

"Excuse me sir?" A young male voice said. "I was just doing my job, just seeing if you need help. I wasn't trying to hassle you."

House turned forty-five degrees and found a young twenty-something guy looking very confused. House shook his head and then pointed at the Samsung. "I want that one installed in my bedroom."

Annie screamed with delight and started dancing around whooping and fist pumping. House watched and smiled at her joy. "This is the first gift I've had in fifty-five years. Thank you, thank you, thank you." She floated up and kissed him on his cheek. Once again he felt a slight electrical vibration.

The poker game continued for an hour before House finally went to the bathroom as an excuse to check on her. She stayed ensconced in the bedroom with the Samsung tuned to some _Lifetime Movie_. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sir." She said curtly.

"Good." House snickered to himself and went back to the table.

After the boys left, House made a call. Half an hour later Annie walked out to the living room, but said nothing. He was about to say something to her, warn her, but there was a knock on the door. She shot a look at him of surprise and disappointment. She disappeared through the door into the entrance hall of the building and then back inside the living room, her jaw locked, arms crossed over her chest and eyes shooting daggers at him.

Now he wished that he hadn't called the escort service. He felt sheepish and defiant at the same time. How dare some dead woman make him feel guilty! He opened the door and welcomed the woman inside.

"Hi, I'm Mona, the escort service sent me." The beautiful woman with a velvet voice and chocolate eyes said.

"Hello, Mona."

Mona continued smiling through the awkward silence. "I'll need the money up front."

House pulled his wallet out of his pocket and peeled off six one hundred dollar bills, handing them to the beautiful dark skinned woman. "You have an accent, where are you from?"

"I was born in Nigeria, but raised in France and New York."

"That would explain it."

"Well, where should I go?"

House glanced over at Annie, who now looked more sad than angry. "Back this way." When they went back to the bedroom, House was sure that Annie was going to follow, but she had been good to her word—only talking when talked to and staying out of his way. She stayed in the living room for the hour that Mona was with House. Eventually, House grabbed a robe and walked Mona to the door, giving her a $50 tip.

"Thanks, I hope you'll ask for me again." She said as she pocketed the money.

"Definitely."

She smiled and gave him a kiss on his lips before leaving. House turned around and saw that Annie's back was to him. She was sitting on the sofa, her legs curled up under her.

Nothing was said, they ignored each other. House took a shower and went back to bed. He waited a few minutes hoping that she'd take up one of her usual spots, either on the bed next to him or on the ceiling watching over him, but she didn't. He turned off the light and went to sleep.

Annie eventually made her way back to his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him as he slept, snoring lightly. She had grown used to that noise; he had started snoring when he was in his forties as he gained weight. Always a skinny kid and a skinny adult, it wasn't until he turned forty-two that the weight started to creep on and the snoring began. The last few months had been so strange compared to the lonely fifty-one years she had spent talking only to guardian angels and other TDLs. She enjoyed Wilson's guardian angel because he had a wicked sense of humor and he didn't mind being around House. Cuddy's guardian angel was above it all and rarely spoke to her when they were together. The team all had angels except for Remy; she had a TDL that was almost as screwed up as Remy.

But over the last few months, she thought that there had been a deep bond between herself and House. He was beginning to look for her both at home and work and was even anxious one day when she had wandered off to watch a heart transplant and he wanted to ask her a question about a case they had studied in his immunology class in med school. When he couldn't find her, he thought she had been given a new body and was being replaced with someone that he couldn't see. He finally found her in the observation room. Climbing as fast as he could up the stairs to talk to her, he started chastising her from the minute he entered the door.

"Where have you been? I needed you! I couldn't remember what Garvin had told us at Hopkins about how they used to diagnose mold allergies. I have a patient that I can't move and I need to find a way to test her without…" House looked down and saw the entire surgical team looking up at him.

The surgeon, William Johnson, knitted his eyebrows and shouted. "How the hell would I know what your teacher said in med school? _I went to UCLA_."

House swallowed hard and nodded down to Johnson, realizing that this was going to go viral as soon as they were out of surgery. House whispered, "Come on, I need you in my office."

She followed him and they worked out the problem together. But now she was pissed. His comment about her talking too much was mean considering that for half a decade she rarely got to talk to anyone. It had been two weeks and she had held true to her word. She only spoke when he spoke to her and her responses were curt. In addition, she spent as much time as she could away from him or at least out of sight. He may have thought she'd cave, but she'd practiced fifty odd years of not talking.

House was annoyed. He kept asking questions that should have elicited long responses from her, but she didn't bite. It was hell knowing she was around, but he couldn't share his thoughts, questions, inside jokes, or make her laugh. More importantly, her silence brought to light his addiction to her, how she had become a fifth member of his team, his confidant, buddy, sounding board. It was as if he had lost his partner. Still, House refused to apologize, especially to a ghost. Why should he care about her feelings? _She was dead!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Stand Off**

Both House and Annie were cranky, which made life hell for House's team. Taub and Foreman approached Wilson, asking for him to intervene, so Wilson made a promise to try and get to the bottom of the moping miscreant. Wilson offered to take House out for drinks later in order to probe the depths of his obvious despair, which House, needing a release, accepted rather quickly. Cuddy, hearing from Foreman that Wilson was going to be point man, went up to speak to the sacrificial oncologist.

"Please find out why he's suddenly gone from 'Happy House' to 'cruel and unusual punishment House'? I'm getting complaints on an hourly basis about how abusive he is."

"That's what I plan on doing."

"Do you have any idea why he was so mellow…I mean, mellow for House."

"No idea. He saw Nolan several months ago and after that he seemed to be…well, I don't know if House can be happy, but he was as close to it as I've seen since the infarction."

Cuddy grimaced. "I know, when he was me he wasn't as happy as he has been. I'd really like to know if he's on some drugs or if maybe there's a woman?"

Wilson shook his head. "No woman. I've been around him at odd hours of the day and there's no sign of a woman. Plus I know he's seeing hookers again so I doubt a woman would put up with that."

"I didn't."

Wilson thought House would probably be more likely to spill the beans if they were in a dive rather than a nicer restaurant or bar. He picked up House at seven and they headed for the Ivy Inn on Nassau. Choosing a couple of stools at the bar, Wilson ordered a whiskey sour while House chose a Guinness.

After a half hour of chit chat, Wilson screwed courage to the wall and asked, "You seemed to be pretty content with life for awhile, what happened?"

House was staring at Annie, who was lying on the bar in front of him. She didn't smile, but he could tell she was amused.

Annie said with a slight smirk, "Yes, Greg, what happened?"

House wanted to talk to Wilson about it, but with Annie now all ears, he didn't dare say anything. "I'm just pissed at my team, they've been screwing up."

"Screwing up?" Wilson asked, somewhat surprised.

"Yeah, Foreman's diagnosis yesterday was lame. Taub screwed up a test—"

"You really think I'm going to buy that? They've screwed up before and at the most, it's amused you. You'd squirrel their screw-ups away for later humiliation. Cuddy thinks there's a woman in the equation somewhere, but I told her I haven't seen one."

"No woman. They're too annoying with all their _chattering_. All they do is hover and cling and constantly tell you how to live your life."

Annie snarled.

"Really? That's a lot of protesting. Sure there's not a woman?"

House, staring straight into Annie's eyes shook his head. "There's no woman of any importance in my life."

Annie rolled her eyes, stuck out her tongue, but said nothing.

Wilson continued to badger, but House never let on that he was pissed at his TDL.

Once home, House turned on her. "You said you'd stay away from me as much as possible."

"I have been. I was just curious to see what Wilson wanted."

"Why don't you just leave me alone? I don't need you sniffing around all the time like a bitch in heat."

She shrugged and walked through the wall.

House, feeling smug because he had won the battle, knew all too well that he was losing the war. He grabbed a bottle of single malt and nursed it for the rest of the night.

Annie stayed out of sight for the next few months by either staying behind a wall or using up her energy to hover on a different frequency that House couldn't see but which exhausted Annie. One Saturday night she was watching _Saturday Night Live_ in the bedroom while House was out playing the piano in the living room. As the music became more melancholy, she checked on him and found him getting drunk on twelve year old Scotch. His depression was deepening and Annie's disposition wasn't getting any better.

Just the day before, on Friday the 13th, House had exploded in the ER and toppled a cart of medical supplies in a fit of rage. Cuddy banished, sending him home to get his act together; she was tired of his tirades and was about ready to suspend him if he didn't have an attitude adjustment. Annie was worried because Cuddy's guardian angel was almost ecstatic, gloating because he knew that House was very close to losing his job this time, Cuddy had finally had her fill of his antics. Annie knew that she was going to have to tell House, but she wasn't sure how he would take it or whether he'd believe her while they were still mad at each other.

Annie heard the piano stop, so she turned down the sound on television. One thing that was easily manipulated by guardian angels and TDLs was electricity which meant she could manipulate a television, radio, iPod, etc. About to go out to check on him, Annie flinched when the door opened and he glared over at her. She immediately disappeared to a new frequency.

"You don't have to go." His voice was sullen and filled with fatigue.

She reappeared, but said nothing.

He looked in her eyes. "I'm going to bed, but if you want to continue watching television, that's cool."

"No, it's okay. I'll turn it off. I can always go out to the living room." She sat up on the bed, ready to float out to the living room.

"I would prefer if you would stay."

Surprised, she nodded that she would stay put. "Greg—"

He held up a hand. "I want to talk but let me get ready for bed."

"Okay."

There was a black silence as he took off his clothes, brushed his teeth and took a quick pee. When he finally climbed into bed, he kept the light on but didn't look at her. Annie had reclined on the other side of the bed with her head propped up by her elbow, waiting for him to begin the discussion. He lay there for several minutes before finally closing his eyes and swallowing hard.

"I miss you."

Annie hadn't expected that. It was so out of the blue that it hit her like a frying pan over her head. She burst out crying even though there were no tears.

It was House's turn to be shocked. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know. I didn't expect you to be nice to me."

"Believe me, it's not easy. I don't want to admit that I have to be the one to give in and end this game, but I miss you and it's not worth it anymore."

She tried to stop crying. "I miss you too."

He turned his head to look at her and smiled. "But…" His voice tightened.

"What?"

"I'm falling in love with you." He had expected some reaction from her—shock, disbelief, disappointment, but she looked almost sad. "You don't seem surprised."

"Well, you know how people fall in love with their shrinks?"

He nodded. "Transference."

"Yes. Well, it happens when the charge starts to see the TDL and realizes that they've been with them since birth. You share so many memories; it feels comfortable and easy to be with that person. You aren't in love Greg, you're just having transference."

He snickered. "I think I'd know transference. It doesn't matter if I'm in love or if it's transference; it's still absurd to fall for a dead person."

"Well, once I tell the powers that be that you're in love with me, they'll transfer me to another charge immediately."

He sat up on his elbows, his voice on edge, "They'll send you somewhere else?"

"Yes. You'll receive a guardian angel."

"_I don't want a guardian angel."_ He snapped.

"Greg, it's not up to you or me. Once I report it, they'll yank me."

"Then I don't want you telling them!"

She looked away.

"Don't you want to stay with me?"

"Of course I do. I have feelings. But, you're asking me to hide something from my superiors that might jeopardize my chances for getting another life. If they find out that I've hidden it, I just go pfff! No chance for another life or to learn what I need to learn to go to a higher plain…I just cease to exist."

He gave her a feigned look of 'gotcha', "Well, don't worry, I was just joking. I don't love you. I was just yanking your chain to get you to talk again."

"So you didn't really miss me?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're so gullible."

She backed off, rolling onto her back and staring up, feeling stupid.

He knew he had to make her feel like crap or she wouldn't buy his lie, because he did love her, more than he wanted, but he couldn't stand the idea that someone would take her from him. "Look, I'm sorry. That was a mean joke; I'll make it up to you. Tomorrow we'll go to a movie you pick."

She turned her back to him, not wanting him to see the hurt in her face.

He went to put a hand on her shoulder, but it fell through her image, onto the bed. Frustrated, he whispered, "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I did miss you. You're my friend and I was lonely without you. You know more than anyone that I don't have many friends and it was hard not having you to talk to."

She turned over and looked at him. He gave her a sweet smile, the smile she recognized from when he was a little boy. "Okay, but I just have to make sure that you're not in love with me."

"There's love and then there's love. I don't think I love you in the Biblical sense, but I really care about, it's like loving a friend-"

"Okay, okay. Since we're talking again, I think you should know that Cuddy is getting a lot of pressure from several of the board members to fire you. The only reason you haven't been is that she showed them a survey sent to twelve major hospitals on the east coast and when asked what PPTH is known for, 85% of the doctors surveyed put down either, "Their diagnostics department" or "House." But they're still not happy with you and have given her an ultimatum-if the complaints don't stop, you're out."

"I could tell from her demeanor that she was getting some pressure. I suspected I was on the ropes."

"Why have you been such an ass lately?" She knew he'd never admit that he was taking his frustration with her out on his team, but she thought she'd ask.

He shrugged.

"Well stop it."

He nodded.

"I want to go see the new Clooney movie tomorrow." Annie announced.

"I can live with that. I'm going to turn off the light now."

She floated up to the ceiling and looked down on House. He noticed that she was now wearing a white gown with long poet sleeves and wondered how she managed to change outfits so fast.

"Are you going to stay up there tonight?"

"I don't have to."

"Why don't you lay down here on the bed next to me?"

The sound in his voice raised the hair on her neck. The tone was one of a hopeful lover who was trying to coax his girlfriend into bed after a big fight. Should she say something, do something? As long as they both ignored what he was feeling, she wouldn't have to report it. Apparently, he was willing to deny his feelings in order to keep her there. And besides, maybe she was reading more into it than there was.

She slipped down to the bed. He turned on his side and smiled. "I like knowing that you're close by in case I need someone to fetch me a whiskey."

"Do you know how much energy it would take for me to pour a whiskey and bring it to you? I'd be out of commission for weeks."

"Still, nice to know if I needed the emergency alcohol fix." He gave her a very gentle smile.

She smiled back.

"I'm glad you're back."

She nodded. "Me too."

He turned out the light.

**Dear REaders: Well today is Mother's Day in the USA and I'm full from eating my dinner that my husband prepared! My son bought me te Adelle CD and hot chocolate from Starbucks. Thanks again for the wonderful comments, it just makes the day even better!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Stepping Out**

"Aren't you ready yet?" She yelled; her arms across her chest.

"Look, you just have to think about what you want to wear and it's done. In fact, you could go in sweat pants and no one would care because no one would see you. Which begs the question, why do you get dressed up when we go out?"

"You may not see me, but the other guardian angels and TDLs do. It's the only time we get to act like we're still alive, so most of us dress too."

House put his tuxedo jacket on and then his overcoat. "I'm ready."

Annie swallowed hard and remarked quietly, "You look so handsome when you get dressed up."

"Thanks, you look beautiful."

"Really?"

He gave her the once over. Her hair was up, her eyelids were a smoky brown and her lips were a dusky red that complimented the scarlet dress. It was a Grecian style dress, the neckline plunged to the slightly empire waist. Her arm had a snake-like gold band and her ears had fine gold hoops. On her feet were beautiful gold sandals. "Really. But aren't you going to be cold without a jacket?"

"Ha, ha." She replied to his joke.

He grinned and nodded towards the front door. She disappeared and was waiting for him in the car, a big grin on her face when he climbed into the car. Driving slowly through the streets, House preferred talking with Annie than going to the event. They talked about the latest gossip at the hospital including the rumor that Chase was having sex with Cuddy.

"I don't believe it." House said, but he looked over to get a read off of Annie. She said nothing. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Are they doing the hoochie coochie or not?"

"Does it matter to you?"

"Of course it does. I need to know who's better in bed."

"I can tell you that."

His head swiveled towards her in shock. "You can?"

"I was around when Chase and Cameron were doing the hoochie coochie everywhere, remember?"

"And?"

"Do you really want to know?"

House narrowed his eyes, debating on whether he did want to know. "Of course I do!"

"Chase is more athletic and can last longer. He's well endowed too. You, on the other hand, have a few more moves and you do know a woman's anatomy, but you're not always up for being inventive. You also—"

House held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa...okay, I surrender. Sex isn't always about exploration, sometimes it's just about a quick release."

"Judging from the way you have sex, I'd have to agree."

His mouth fell open as they pulled into the parking lot. "You're cruel, woman!"

She grinned. "Yeah, well this is all coming from someone who's only had sex with one guy."

"Really?"

"I was a virgin when I got married and I never cheated on the bastard."

There was silence as they both contemplated how tragic her death had been at the hands of her husband.

"Did you love him?" House asked as he watched other couples get out of the cars and cross the parking lot, one guy pulling the shorts from between his cracks, not realizing he had an audience.

"When? I thought I loved him when we got married, but I had rose colored glasses on. He was a Stanford graduate and I thought he'd make a great husband. I ignored some of the warning signs, but then I was twenty and it was the forties. With the war on, everyone felt as if tomorrow you could be dead. I married him; he went off to war and came back two years later with a purple heart and an arm that didn't work very well. Like you, he let that define him until he died."

"I'm not defined by my leg." House said, as he used his cane to cross the parking lot.

"Maybe not as much now, but it did define you for awhile. You certainly used it as a crutch, excuse the reference."

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, but said nothing since Cuddy was walking straight towards him a faux fur wrap around her arms. She smiled.

"Where's Chase?" He asked.

Cuddy clenched her jaw. "You aren't buying the rumors are you?"

"Should I?"

"_No!"_

"Fine. But usually where there's smoke there's fire."

"Not in this case. We went to a convention together and that's when the rumors started."

"You mean the convention in DC about two months ago?"

She nodded. "You look handsome."

"Thank you. You look...cold. Your nips are rock hard."

"House!" She scanned the area to see if anyone had heard. "You can be so crude sometimes."

"True. Actually, you look pretty in that dress."

She grinned. "Thank you and Merry Christmas." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

House snickered at the look of disgust on Annie's face. House put his arm out. Cuddy slipped hers into his and they walked inside the hotel ballroom where the first person to greet them was Foreman and his fiancé, Mica.

The room was decorated in silver and white to give the impression of a winter wonderland. The ball, which in the eighties had been the "PPTH Christmas Ball" was now the politically correct "PPTH Winter Ball." House looked around and found Wilson in a corner talking to one of the Physician Assistants, Penelope Quintin. Strolling over, he grabbed Wilson's drink from his hand and knocked it back.

Wilson, annoyed, but not surprised, asked Penelope, "It looks as if I'm going to the bar, would you like something?"

"I'll have a whiskey neat." House interjected.

Penelope, who was well acquainted with House's reputation held up her drink. "I'm fine for now."

When Wilson left, House leaned in and squinted at her. "So, how long have you been talking to Wilson?"

"Since I got here about twenty minutes ago. I'm thinking of joining his department."

"Is that all?"

"Is what all?"

"You're too young for him."

"I'm twenty-nine."

"Hmmm, you look younger. But, he's forty-one now."

"Dr. House, I'm not sure you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, but I already have a partner, _she's_ home sick tonight."

Annie started laughing and pointing at House who had been clearly taken off guard. House was miffed at first, but broke up laughing because Annie couldn't stop. Penelope backed off, her eyebrows knitted together in worry as she watched what could only be considered bizarre—House's strange actions. House was staring in front of himself laughing, not just a chuckle, but a rip-roaring laugh that he was sharing with...no one!

"Dr. House are you alright?"

House turned, still laughing and looked at the perplexed PA. Nodding he walked off so that he could compose himself. He turned down a hall into the dark.

"Greg, you have to be more careful. If you start laughing, you need to at least pretend that you're laughing with someone who's alive." Annie warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." House composed himself and went back in to retrieve his drink from Wilson.

Wilson handed him the tumbler. "Are you okay? Penelope said you almost peed your pants laughing at something that wasn't funny."

"You had to be there."

"I could hear you laughing across the room. House, you never laugh out loud...at least not like that."

"Yes, I do, but just not with you. You're not that funny."

Wilson exhaled loudly. "Well, I'm glad you pulled your finger out of your ass and got your sense of humor back. Since we had that talk a month ago, you've been Jekyll to last month's Mr. Hyde. What happened?"

"I just saw the error of my ways."

Annie smiled and nodded at House. "I'll say. Oh, by the way, the board member who wanted you fired is over there, Dr. Blake Hodgkins."

House turned around and looked. "Which one is he?"

"Tall, distinguished, gray hair, red cummerbund."

House nodded. "Got it."

Wilson shook his head, confused by House's ramblings. "Which one is who and what has he got?"

"Hodgkins. He's the one that wants me gone."

Wilson's eyes grew large. "How did you find out? We're supposed to discuss and vote in secrecy. Did Cuddy tell you?"

"No, _but_ _you should have told me!"_

Wilson looked sheepish. "I would have told you had the vote gone the wrong way."

"He's still lobbying against you." Annie said.

"Then why haven't you told me that he still wants my head on a platter?"

"Because you've been behaving. He's not going to make any headway if you keep behaving." Wilson answered, unable to look House in the eye.

"I hate the SOB." Annie remarked. "Let's have some fun."

"How?"

Wilson perked up, thinking House was talking to him. "Just keep doing what you've been doing the last month, keep your harassment limited to your team."

Annie snickered at Wilson's response. "Just sit at his table if you can."

"You mean, sit with Hodgkins?"

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea. I said that you shouldn't harass anyone." Wilson said, somewhat alarmed.

"Yes, or nearby." Annie said.

"You're going to do something to him?" House asked her.

"To whom? Hodgkins?" Wilson asked.

House turned to Wilson. "What are you talking about?"

"Hodgkins...you think I'm going to do something to Hodgkins?"

"I can only hope."

"Sorry, House, you may be my best friend but Hodgkins swings a big stick. If you want to do something naughty, you'll have to do it yourself."

"Okay."

House nodded towards Hodgkins, wanting Annie to follow him. He walked as Annie hovered.

"Are you okay with getting messy?" Annie asked.

"Why?"

"I can make him look like an ass if you don't mind getting red wine on you."

House whispered out the side of his mouth, "How?"

"Just be very charming and sweet to him; let me do the rest."

"Okay."

They walked up to the little group that had formed around Hodgkins including two board members, Melanie Goldman and Forest Smith, the oldest and most beloved of the Board members, Cuddy and now House.

"Good evening everyone, are you enjoying yourselves?" House asked.

Cuddy looked nervous, unsure why House had joined them and even more concerned that House was being civil. "We're doing well. House, I see Wilson over there with Chase, why don't you join them?" Cuddy suggested.

"I just wanted to come over and wish everyone a very Merry Christmas, a Chipper Chanukah and a Happy New Year."

Annie floated up behind Hodgkins, mustered up all the energy she could, grabbed Hodgkins' hand and tossed his glass of red wine in House's face.

"Ahh!" The two women screamed.

Everyone turned and gave Hodgkins a look of incredulity.

Melanie kept shaking her head. "Blake, why? Why would you do that?"

House took out a handkerchief and started to wipe off his face.

Cuddy was more direct. "I know you're not a fan of House, but that was really uncalled for."

"I didn't realize you held a personal grudge against House." Old man Forest said.

House had a hard time not bursting out laughing because behind Hodgkins, Annie was laughing and pointing at House whose white tuxedo shirt was now pink. The look of pure horror on everyone's face was worth his discomfort. Hodgkins was a red shade brighter than lobster.

"House, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that." Hodgkins said, genuinely upset.

"Oh, come on, Blake, we all know you've been gunning for House." Forest said.

"B-b-but, I would never throw a drink in someone's face!"

Cuddy huffed. "You just did."

"I don't know how it happened."

"If you will all excuse me, I'm going to go to the rest room to clean up." House refused to raise his voice, giving the impression that he was the better man. Once in the bathroom, Annie, sitting on the counter swinging her legs, was laughing. House whispered as he leaned over into the sink. "That was perfect." He looked around and asked, "You don't mind seeing all these men peeing?"

"They're just dicks. Believe me; being the TDL of a male doctor means you see a lot of penises."

House chuckled. "I hate to think how I measure up."

"Your penis is just fine…not too big, not too small."

"Great, average."

"I didn't say that. I'd say you're a little on the longer side…not by much, but pleasantly so."

House shook his head and sighed. "Get back out there and tell me what they're saying. That was brilliant, Hodgkins looked like the ass _that I am_."

"I've got your back."

She floated out and listened until House finally joined the crowd, now stripped down to a white t-shirt, cummerbund, bow tie around his neck and tuxedo jacket. He looked like the James Dean of the tuxedo crowd as he walked across the room.

Grinning, she joined him. "You look like you're making a fashion statement."

He smiled at the crowd as they parted to let him through. He barely whispered to Annie, "Well?"

"Oh, they are pissed at him! It's all over that you were simply wishing him a Merry Christmas when he threw a drink in your face."

"I'm going to go ask Cuddy to dance so I can listen to her grovel."

"Don't. Dance with me." Annie started gyrating around, even did moonwalking onto the dance floor in front of House.

He had to smile at her, she was so happy and playful he wished she were alive so he could scoop her into his arms and kiss her, but he shook his head. "I can't dance with you, you're not here."

The air went out of her sails and a look of disappointment crawled across her face.

"I'll dance with you when we get home. Okay?"

She shrugged.

House approached Cuddy. "Dance?"

Lisa gave a guilty nod and walked quickly to the dance floor with him. "House, I'm so sorry. We knew he didn't like you professionally; we just never knew how deep he detested you. I've talked to several of the board members and we're going to ask him to step down or at least not vote on any issues involving you." Her face was full of contrition.

Turning to the wall so she wouldn't see the evil look of satisfaction, House took a breath and turned back to her, smiled and said, "I never thought that saying Merry Christmas could be so traumatic. Maybe he's Muslim?"

Lisa let out a sharp laugh of relief. They began to dance to the band's version of _Whiter Shade of Pale_.

"Where's Lucas?" House asked.

"On a case."

"I'm surprised he didn't make it to your big Christmas party."

"Work is work. _ He supports me when I need it_."

He ignored the dig. "How's Rachel?"

"Fine." Cuddy's body tensed.

"You mean, she misses me."

"Of course she misses you. And it was very nice of you to take her out the other day. She's still talking about it."

"She's a good kid."

"Thank you." Cuddy said and then went quiet.

The music turned fast so they broke apart and started dancing fast and free. House began laughing. Cuddy just thought he was enjoying the dance, but he was actually watching Annie next to Cuddy dancing, her arms in the air as if she was doing _The Jerk _and then the _Hully Gully._ After the dance, Cuddy went off to talk to someone of perceived importance and House went over to the buffet, grabbing a plate of crudités and shoveling them down quickly as he sat at the table.

Wilson walked over and sat down next to House. "Hungry?"

"I'm just getting it down so I can leave."

"Leave? You've only been here an hour!"

"You know this isn't my scene."

Wilson looked around and sighed. "Yeah, I like the casino nights better. Want company?"

"No, you stay and catch all the gossip about what Hodgkins did."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**The Heavens Opened Up**

House drove home, surprised that Annie wasn't in the car with him. When he opened the door to the apartment, music was on and Annie was dancing in the middle of the living room, a smile of satisfaction on her face. House's spirits rose. He took off his overcoat and tuxedo jacket, laying them carefully over the chair and then started dancing with her. Showing each other dance moves from over the decades, they danced until House grabbed his thigh as it spasmed and collapsed back onto the couch.

"Are you okay?" Annie asked, wishing she could massage it for him.

"Yeah, it will pass in a minute."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Making you dance until it hurt."

He snickered. "I don't do anything unless I want to do it. It was fun."

"Did you have a good time at the party?"

"It was perfect. I think my job is safe for awhile. He really looked like an ass. I almost felt sorry for him."

"Don't, his guardian angel doesn't even like him and that's really bad. When you watch over someone from childhood, you tend to feel paternal or maternal, his guardian angel doesn't."

"Annie, how does it work—when you transfer to your new body?"

She sat down at the other end of the couch, her feet apparently in his lap although he couldn't feel them. "I only have a fraction of a second to take over the body when it dies and then bring it back. Their spirit, soul, whatever you want to call it, of the person I'm replacing leaves just as I enter."

"So how do you know when it's happening?"

"I'm not sure. I know I have to live in the general proximity of the body I'll inhabit."

"You mean somewhere in Princeton is your doppleganger?"

"Yes or within a hundred miles more or less, so if you meet her, for God's sake, don't do anything. You might screw it up for me."

"Wow, someone somewhere looks like you and will be you."

She shrugged.

"Will you remember me?"

"I'll have my memories, but they'll dump all of that woman's memories on top of mine…you'll be buried like a fuzzy dream. I probably won't recognize you, know you, think about you." As she said it her face grew sad, distant.

He reached out to grab her hand, to reassure her, but his hand went right through, causing him to curse. She jumped slightly, surprised by his gesture.

"I was going to say that I'll remember you." House said, staring deep into her eyes.

She gave him a sadly sweet smile, "Thank you."

"I love you." He whispered.

"Oh, Greg." She shook her head with sadness. "I know, I know. How did this happen?" If she could have cried real tears they would have been flowing.

"Do you love me?" He asked.

She swallowed hard and tried to look him in the eye. Her reply was barely audible, as if she was keeping it from the Gods, "Yes."

"Yes? Did you say yes?"

She grimaced and nodded. "Yes, but now we'll have to separate."

"Why? Don't say anything yet; let's just spend some time together before you tell them."

"If they find out and I haven't told them, then I'll never get another chance to live."

"Just a few months. Who knows, I might meet a real woman and you won't have to go at all."

"This isn't a healthy relationship, you know that."

"Yes, I know, but we both know that there's something between us. It's ridiculous but I'm happier with a dead woman than I've ever been with a live one."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's creepy."

He laughed. "I know."

"Let's go to bed."

She nodded.

**Dear Readers: Sorry about not posting yesterday! I forgot al about it until I received a review today...reminded me that I hadn't posted. Unfortunately this is short. Thanks for he reviews, not only do they boost my desire to keep writing, they trigger my brain to keep posting! LOL**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Trip the Lights Fantastic**

In the bedroom, House stripped down to his shorts and looked over at her lying leisurely on top of the covers watching him undress, secretly wishing she could touch him, really touch him. He crawled on top of the bed facing her and stared into her eyes before looking away. It was so painful to have acknowledged their feelings and still be so far away from each other.

"I wish I could touch you, make love to you." He said with a sadness in his voice that only she could understand.

She whispered back, "I know; me too."

"When you do manipulate things, do they feel solid to you?"

She shook her head. "No, it's electrical, fuzzy. At least, that's what you've said."

"Me?"

"When you were a child and I'd touch you, try to get to do something, that's what you'd say…that there was static electricity, like a strange fuzzy feeling. Of course you never knew what it was from."

"Touch me like that."

"Really?" She was amused by the suggestion.

"Yeah. But, before you do, would you take off your clothes?"

She pulled her head back in shock. "Why?"

"We can't make love to each other, but I could look at you and fantasize."

"You want to masturbate while you watch me?"

"You make it sound perverted. Look, I could call a hooker, but I'd feel like I was cheating. I could beat off, but you'd see me and hear me. Why not be a part of it? Why not let me fantasize about making love to you since it's you I want to make love to?"

She said nothing, but after thinking it through, she flew up and floated directly over him. He watched her fingers reach in the back and begin to unzip her dress, slipping it over her body and then it was gone, disappearing into thin air. Underneath she had a black lace push- up bra and black panties that matched. He could see the lovely mounds above the edge of the lace cups causing his erection to grow and move in his groin. Reaching behind her back, she unsnapped her bra and pulled it down revealing pleasingly symmetrical round breasts with deep pink, plump nipples staring down at him.

"They're beautiful." He said.

"I had nice ones too-when I was alive, but not as nice as these. They're the breasts of my new body. I'm pleased." She took another look at her breasts and then asked, "Panties?"

He nodded as he wrapped his hand around his now plump erection. House flinched when his iPod started playing jazz. He looked over at the stereo.

"I hope you don't mind a little music?" She asked.

"No, it's great."

Sliding the panties slowly over her hips and down her thighs, House took in a deep breath when he saw the light patch of dark blond wavy hair that covered her mound. Her abdomen wasn't flat, the slight roundness gave her a womanly feel. He liked her body—a lot. She didn't have the long, beautiful torso of Stacy or the toned muscles of Cuddy, but she was beautiful because of her beautiful breasts and curves. He laughed. She pulled her arms over her chest in response.

He shook his hands at her. "I'm not laughing at you. I was just laughing at the idea of a naked woman floating over me. It's very surreal." His smile faded as he felt his erection grow. "Can you touch me?"

"Are you sure?"

He nodded as he stroked himself slowly, the erection getting hard and thick. She slowly lowered herself from the ceiling. The sight was so sensual, so erotic, that he no longer needed to touch himself to stay hard. When she was just inches from his chest, she stopped and hovered. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were soft with lust.

"Are you sure?" She asked quietly.

"Do it."

She lowered her body so that it completely covered him. He gasped. Every point that she touched tingled; feeling like a low volt of electricity rushing through his body. His erection immediately hardened as he grabbed the sheets to hold on to something. Within seconds he was in the throes of a mind-blowing orgasm, his ejaculation shooting a foot into the air.

"Oh, Jesus, no more, no more!" He cried out in discomfort.

Annie flew back to the ceiling and looked down, her face filled with concern. "Greg? Are you okay?"

He was trying to catch his breath. "Yeah, yeah. That was the most bizarre orgasm I've ever had. Not only more intense, but different in the way it felt too."

"Bad or good?"

"Mostly good, but it quickly turned very uncomfortable after I came." He sat up on his elbows and looked at his chest covered with a trail of milky white fluid. "Wow, that's a lot of semen."

"It sure is."

Lying back down, he took a deep breath. "I can't move yet. I need to catch my breath." He started to calm his breathing and relax his muscles. Looking up, it hit him that she had a gown on now. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Can you touch yourself and feel it?"

"Yes, why?"

"Lie down on the bed."

She lay down next to him, wondering what he was going to do. House reached over and grabbed a tissue, wiping his chest, balling it up before throwing it and missing the trash can.

"Lift your gown up over your hips."

"No."

"Just go with it. Try it once. If you don't like it, you don't have to do it again."

She lifted the gown and when he saw the panties back on he shook his head. She removed them in a flash.

"Spread your legs a little."

Annie spread her legs and then placed her hand on her thigh.

"Now feel between your legs for your clit. It will be up at the top of your slit and feel like a button or nub."

"_I know where my clit is."_ Annie snapped.

He gave her a funny face. "Sorry! Now start rubbing. You might want to rub from your opening up." He demonstrated with his hand on his own crotch.

Annie did as she was told while House assured her this wasn't perverted. When he saw that she was relaxing, starting to enjoy it, he began talking dirty to her.

"You're hot; I love your cherry topped breasts, the little pink flower between your legs, the shape of your hips. I can just imagine holding onto those hips as I drive into you from behind, harder and faster, harder and faster."

Annie's breathing picked up and the feeling between her thighs started to demand her attention. Within seconds her body exploded with feelings she had never had before, not with anyone. She screamed out, bucking up twice and then grimacing as her body was wracked with pleasure. House grinned and took great pleasure watching her body envelop the rush of sexual release. Eventually, she stopped and opened her eyes.

House waited, cringing, wondering if Annie had enjoyed it as much as it seemed. "Well?"

"I don't know what to say. That was really…interesting."

"_Interesting? Just interesting?"_

"Okay, it was really, really good."

"That's more like it. I have to go take a shower, come with me."

She joined him in the shower, getting naked again and watching as he beat off for the second time in an hour. The release wasn't as spectacular as the first time, but she could tell he enjoyed it.

"Did you fantasize about me?"

"Of course."

She grinned.

"We're in trouble aren't we?"

"What do you mean?" Annie asked.

"We've found a way to have sex together."

"That's bad because…?"

"It means I could really get into this relationship."

"I see what you mean. You have to promise me that you'll try and find someone _alive_ to love or I tell my superiors now."

"Oh, come on. Don't make threats."

"I'm serious; please tell me you'll continue to look at other women and date."

House shook his head as if he hadn't heard her. "This is the first time a woman has begged me to date other women." He thought for a second. "Just how is that going to work with you standing right beside me while I make my moves?"

"You have to try."

"Okay! Fine! I'll try to date someone from this world. Okay?"

She nodded.

But House was enjoying his new relationship too much to look elsewhere. She was almost the perfect girlfriend except for the whole unable to touch thing and the fact that she followed him everywhere. Still, they gossiped and laughed throughout the day at each other's jokes. Of course, Annie was beginning to worry about the comments she was hearing—that House had started talking to himself and bursting into laughter for no apparent reason. Most of the people close to him pointed out that this behavior, making everyone think he was nuts, was very much like House and thus, he should be ignored. So when he burst out during the differential, his entire team went quiet.

"House, what is up with you?" Foreman asked with a frown.

House closed one eye for a second and winced. "I just thought of a funny joke about Alzheimer's."

"There's something funny about Alzheimer's?" Taub asked.

"They can hide their own Easter Eggs?" House ventured, having been told the line a few minutes ago by Annie, causing House's outburst.

"You really are in your own world, aren't you?" Chase asked rhetorically.

Annie shook her head. "We're being reckless. People are beginning to think that you might just be nuts again. I think I should stay unseen and unheard at work."

House pushed back from the table. "I'll be right back." Running into his office, he grabbed his Bluetooth and put it in his ear and then started walking down the hall. "You don't have to worry; I'll start using this thing when we walk down the hall."

"Aren't you tired of me constantly dogging you around the hospital?"

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah, a little, but sometimes you come in handy."

"Too much closeness can't be a good thing. I'll back off at work, give you some space; let you start flirting with the nurses again."

"I don't want to flirt with the nurses again."

"Now I know you're lying."

"Okay, just a little. There is that brunette in obstetrics who's hot."

Annie rolled her eyes, blew a kiss and faded away.

When they got home, House was quiet, sitting back after dinner and reading. Annie went into the bedroom to watch television. Around eleven House brushed his teeth and got ready for bed while Annie watched from the ceiling.

"Why are you up there?"

"You seem quiet, off in your own world; I thought I'd give you some time to yourself. Are you okay?"

"I talked to that nurse."

"I see. So, you enjoyed having some time to yourself?"

"Yeah, but I have to admit that I kept looking around to tell you something and you weren't there. I'm not sure I'd like it all the time. Perhaps you could pop in and out when we do the differential? I'd like to have your input."

"You really like having me there?"

He nodded. "You're the fifth man on the team."

"Man?"

"Fine. You're the fifth human on my team."

"I'm not human, I'm a displaced soul."

The look he gave her was warm and inviting. "You are more human than most humans and I don't mean that as a compliment."

Annie laughed and then grew solemn. "Greg. Are you really tired of being around me?"

"Oh, Christ, let's not get into this. You sound desperately pathetic."

She disappeared.

House did a mental eye roll. "Annie, come back. Look, it's just frustrating to have you and not have you."

She reappeared. "You're right. It is frustrating to have each other and not have each other. You promised me that you'd look for a real woman. You need to do that." She tried to smile, but it fell short so she disappeared.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Rub It In**

House didn't see her for two nights and days despite calling for her. She finally appeared one evening, sitting in the kitchen on the counter.

"Oh, so there you are. I'm going out."

"I know, the brunette nurse. I'm glad. Wear the brown sports jacket over the blue shirt with your jeans." She disappeared again.

He picked up the thirty-two year old, Maryann Cash, who was wearing a deep red halter top and a jean skirt. They drove to the restaurant where House's favorite jazz trio was scheduled to play that night. House was on his best behavior, pulling out all the stops to charm Maryann. She was educated, but not all that intelligent. Still, she knew enough about the modern music scene that they were comfortable in their conversation. Maryann was clearly excited to be dating a doctor even though she admitted that she had been warned that he was not a good long term bet. The food had been exceptional and House was pleased to see that she was already on her third glass of wine when the band started. As they sat in the audience listening, House looked around the room, amazed at the eclectic crowd of old and young, black and white who populated the tables throughout the club. He saw Annie floating off to the side, about ten feet off the ground, her back to their table, watching the band. She never once turned to look at them, allowing House to continue to woo his date with as much privacy as a TDL could give.

When House suggested they go back to her place, she winced. "I have a very noisy roommate. It's a male nurse and his friends are always there on Saturday. What about your place?"

House almost admitted that he had a very noisy roommate too, but held his tongue. He preferred going to the woman's place; it gave him the option of getting up and leaving. At his place, Maryann would be his guest for the night and morning. Still, sex was sex. "Sure, it's only a few blocks away."

They drove back and spent the first fifteen minutes on a drink and some open mouth kissing on the sofa. Her technique was nice, not too sloppy and her breath was a pleasant mixture of whiskey and mint, probably due to a breath mint he saw her sneak in the car. She boldly started to rub House between the legs, causing an immediate response. Getting up, he grabbed her hand and took her back to the bedroom, looking around to see if Annie was around watching television, but she wasn't.

It didn't take long before they were rolling around in bed naked. Grabbing a condom, he dressed himself and then Maryann mounted him. Slipping in and out of her, House was excited by the feel of her soft flesh and the grip of her vaginal muscles. After months of denying himself the pleasures of a woman, Maryann was a real joy. Her young body glistened with a thin layer of perspiration from their rather robust passion. As he thrust, he looked up and out of the corner of his eye, he could barely see Annie, quietly rolled up in a ball in the corner, her eyes jammed shut, her face in pain. He knew she was required to come back to him frequently during the day. Sometimes she could reach a different level and House wouldn't see her, but it took a lot of energy. Or she would appear for awhile and then disappear into another part of the house. But when she had expended a lot of energy doing something, she had to be near him so that she could conserve and replenish her energy.

House could feel the sexual release building like a tea kettle about to whistle. He looked over at Annie and saw that her eyes had opened. Their eyes met and House, still thrusting, could see just how painful this was for her, how much she wanted to float away, but couldn't just yet. He wanted to stop, put her out of her misery, but couldn't. His body was on autopilot, his sexual impulses in full gear. When he came, he grunted several times as he ejaculated. Looking up, Annie was gone.

House was generous; he made sure that Maryann came before excusing himself and going into the bathroom. Opening the door, he found Annie sitting on the side of the tub, her eyes down, body hunched over. She was heaving up and down crying, but when she looked up, there were no tears, which, because she didn't have fluids, made sense. But it always surprised him that she could cry so hard and there were never real tears. He closed the door and resisted rubbing it in by reminding her that this is what she wanted. House felt sick to his stomach.

She shook her head. "It's just so hard. I didn't think it would be this hard. I'm sorry; you shouldn't have to see me like this." She disappeared.

"Annie, come back." He whispered.

She reappeared.

"I'll send her home."

"No, don't do that. I just need to get my crap together."

"Maybe I don't want you to get your crap together."

"Oh, Greg, you deserve so much more. Really, it's not fair to you."

"Greg? Are you okay? Who are you talking to?" The voice rang out from the bedroom.

House turned and went out. "It was my cell. Hey, something's come up; I'm going to have to go into the hospital. Sorry. I'll call a taxi for you."

"I could wait for you."

He shook his head. "No, I'm going to be there for awhile." He walked over and picked up the land line, grateful that she hadn't seen that his cell phone was in the top drawer, which was slightly open. House ordered the taxi.

Pointing to the bathroom, he announced, "I have to shower. The taxi should be here in five minutes."

House started the shower as Annie continued to sit on the bathtub's edge. "Can you go out and see if she's getting the message to leave."

Annie disappeared and then reappeared. "She's getting dressed, but she doesn't look happy."

"Tough." He tested the water and then got into the shower, letting the water run over his face as he soaped up. A few minutes later Annie was standing in the shower in front of him.

"She's gone."

"You look stupid standing in a shower with your clothes on."

She was suddenly nude. House smiled and nodded.

"Greg, call Maryann and ask her out again."

"I don't think so."

"Why? You seemed to have fun on the date."

"I enjoyed it. But, honestly, I kept wishing you had been at the table. It would have been cheaper and the conversation would have been more interesting."

"Honestly?"

"Annie, the reason it's so hard for me to date is that I compare all the women in my life to you. My only regret was that I wasn't born in the 1920's."

She wanted to hug him, thank him for choosing her, but of course it was impossible. "I wish you had been alive when I was alive too."

"Do you think you would have fallen in love with me?"

"Absolutely. You're a jerk, but I would have first been attracted to your brain and then, once I got to know _you—_the real you- I would have fallen in love with your personality."

"Bull. Not back in the thirties and forties. I would have been so anti-social they would have put me away. We never would have met."

Annie laughed. "You're probably right. You'd probably be in prison."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Heartless Souls**

"Do you still see her?"

"Yep, tonight's our one year anniversary."

Nolan paused. "One year _anniversary?"_

"I saw her a year ago today."

"Oh, and you actually celebrate that?"

"Yep."

"House, maybe we need a session together. Do you think you're in love with this apparition?"

"No. I know I am."

"That can't be healthy. How long has it been since you went out with a real woman?"

"Hmm. About six months."

"House, call my secretary, get an appointment."

"Sure." But he had no intentions of doing so. It wasn't perfect, but he couldn't give Annie up. He'd tried several times after Maryann, all at Annie's insistence, to go out with women; he even dated one woman several times but found himself looking forward to the date ending so he could get home and talk to Annie.

After talking to Nolan, House hung up and then sent Annie home from the hospital, telling her he needed some 'alone' time. He stopped at the hospital florist and purchased red roses. Both Wilson and Cuddy raised eyebrows as he walked through the lobby with a dozen red roses. When he arrived home, he saw that Annie was waiting for him, a sexy smile on her face and dressed in a gorgeous red dress with a little bustle.

House rolled his eyes. "You heard me make the reservations?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry, honey. I had just popped back in and heard you. But I am very excited! And very, very grateful."

House held up the red roses. "These are for you."

"Did anyone see you carrying them?"

"The whole hospital."

"Oh, Greg, you know you're going to get asked a lot of questions."

"I thought you'd be happy to get them."

It hit her that her first reaction had been negative to the fact that the man she loved was bringing her flowers. "They're beautiful. Even more important, you thought of me. Happy anniversary, darling." She went over and gave him a kiss, not putting much energy into it so she could save it for sex later.

"Happy anniversary." He responded, enjoying the tingle of her kiss.

They went to Mezzaluna for dinner, receiving a booth in the back where House had requested. He put his bluetooth in his ear, something which was now de rigueur when they were out.

"Look at this menu! I wish I could taste the food." She said as she looked over his shoulder.

House tilted the menu slightly so that it would be easier for her to read. "For your anniversary dinner, I'm going to let you pick the meal and I'll describe it to you while I eat it."

"You'd do that for me?"

"I'm glad you like the idea, because it could sound like I'm trying to torture you."

"No, it's sweet." She looked at the menu. "Ooooo…I want the Calamari and the Rigatoni with the pancetta, shallots, grape tomatoes and vodka finished in a blush cream sauce. Doesn't that sound good?"

"I would have had the veal."

"It has asparagus; I don't like asparagus. But, honey, if you want the veal, just order it. It's a pleasure just being here with you."

He shook his head. "No, I'm getting the Rigatoni for you."

House ordered the Calamari and Rigatonni, enjoying her enthusiasm over the presentation of the dish. Throughout the meal, House described the flavors and textures in detail, causing Annie to smile and squeal with joy. In return, Annie talked dirty, using food as a metaphor for sex each time he took a bite. She worked House up in to a sexual tempest, making it difficult for him to continue describing the meal. Paying the bill, House had to wait a few minutes for the thickness in his pants to disappear before getting out of the booth. Annie didn't ride home with him, despite his numerous calls for her to appear. When he walked into the house he yelled for her.

"Annie! Don't ever leave me with a hard on in the middle of a public—"

She reappeared dressed in a black leather boned corset which barely contained her breasts and a small leather bikini with black fishnets and four inch black toeless pumps. In her hand was a small hand whip. "You were saying something, Gregory?"

"Oh…I was just saying that we need to get back to the bedroom. Can you touch me tonight?"

She grinned. "Of course I can. I was planning to… and you don't get to creep back to the bedroom." She pointed the whip towards the couch. "You're going to stay on the sofa until I say you can leave."

House knew it was absurd. She couldn't make him do anything and the whip would probably feel like wind against his skin, but he wanted to go along with it because, not only did she look really hot in that outfit, but the idea of a dominatrix Annie was a turn on, not to mention that touching him was definitely something he wanted from her.

"Sit down!" She growled. "Oh, wait honey, you should stand up…we need to get your pants off." Her voice had suddenly changed to sweet and loving.

"Annie, if you're going to be a dominatrix you can't sound apologetic. You have to yell at me to take my pants off."

"_Take your pants off—now!"_

"Good, that's good."

She slapped the whip onto her leg and sneered. "You don't tell me what's good! _I tell you what's good._ Now take everything off…I want you nude."

He undid his shirt and tie, taking everything off while trying not to laugh at her. "Is this what you wanted mistress?" He turned to greet her completely nude, his scar the only blight on the landscape that was House.

Her face turned lovely and incredibly sweet, her dominatrix character dropped. "You look so beautiful in the nude."

House threw his hands up in frustration. "You can't say things like that and be a sadist at the same time."

"Oh! Sorry, uh, yes of course you're right. _Sit down,scumbag!_"

He sat down and then waited.

She looked at him and shrugged. "I'm not very good at this am I?" Her outfit instantly changed to a sexy maid's costume. "I think I'd be better at being your servant."

He laughed. "So all of that was just to get me naked?"

"I'm sorry."

She looked so pitiful, that he motioned for her to come over and sit on his lap. When she did, she didn't send any energy, saving it for later. But the position allowed them to look deep into each other's eyes.

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

"Happy anniversary, darling." Annie said in return.

"Why don't you just take that thing off and we'll both be in the nude?"

He no sooner said it than she was nude on his lap, her breasts only a foot away from his lips. Although frustrated because he couldn't touch or play with them, House was still aroused just by looking at her. He laid back, his erection starting to firm up. She floated above as he settled down.

House had slipped his hand down and was stroking himself as his eyes slid over the curves of her body. In turn, she began to pleasure herself. He loved watching when she rubbed herself until she came. It was almost spiritual to both come without embracing, without the feeling of him physically inside of her.

"Touch me." They didn't do it often because it took too much energy for her to do it, but on occasion she would touch him like she did the first time they had sex.

"Are you ready?" Annie asked softly.

He smiled and nodded.

Lowering herself onto him, she spread the energy, increasing the amount gradually as he continued to masturbate.

It was like a dam broke and a stream of incredible electrical pulses surged through him ending in one long, incredibly gratifying ejaculation, semen spewing everywhere. House's heart actually skipped several beats and then it picked up. He shook his head to make her stop. When she had floated away, he started taking deep breaths to slow his heartbeat.

"That was quite a finish." She said.

"Yes, it was. If you don't mind, I'm going to get cleaned up."

"Okay."

House took several deep breaths as he cleaned up. That had been the most intense orgasm yet. He was pretty sure that having ecto-orgasms (the name they had given to their sex) was probably putting a strain on his heart, another reason that they didn't do it very often. House took a quick shower and then joined her on the couch. She was watching _The Daily Show_ and was laughing. He loved hearing her laughter.

Sitting down he watched as some phony journalist pretended to be reporting from Libya. He turned and looked at her laughing and couldn't imagine his world without her. She looked over and laughed.

"I love you too, Greg."

"I didn't say anything."

"No, but you only look that way when you're about to say it."

"Alright, I love you. There, I said it."

She grinned over at him and then her face turned to horror. "My God, something's wrong, something's…Greg…oh, Greg, this is it…this is it. I love…"

She was gone.

**Dear Readers:**

**Thanks for the review, it reminded me that I didn't post yesterday. It's been really stressful lately and I sometimes forget. Your reviews really cheer me up. Again, thanks!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**Lost Souls**

House jumped up. "Annie? Annie? Damn it, Annie, come back, come back. Annie…you have to come back. This isn't funny." He ran room to room, but she wasn't there. He was muddled, upset, confused. Sitting down, he grabbed the arm of the chair and tried to calm himself. He had to think…_if this was it, then someone had to die momentarily for her to live. Someone had to be ill or in an accident or something life threatening for Annie to slip into the body of the woman who was legally dead and it had to happen nearby._

House threw on some jeans, a sweater, sneakers and then, grabbing his keys, rushed out to his car. He drove to PPTH so fast and with such purpose, he didn't even remember driving through the streets. When he arrived, he parked in his handicap spot and rushed to the back ambulance bay where he first checked the ER. When there was no sign of her, he called all of the departments to find out if anyone had coded in the last hour. He was told no.

Driving to University Medical Center, House felt his chest constrict and his heart flutter. _Crap, I can't afford a panic attack. Just concentrate on finding her. You've got to find her while she's just coming to. Her memories are there, they're just pushed down, underneath the imprint of the woman she's replacing. The sooner you get to her, the less likely her memories will submerged to the point of no return._

He practically flew to University Medical Center, worried because it had been over an hour since she had disappeared. According to Moffit, the ER doctor at UMC, none of their patients had coded. He called the different wards and it was confirmed—no close calls in the last hour. The last hospital in the immediate area was Princeton General. House didn't bother parking in the lot; he simply put up his handicap placard and parked in an ambulance stall. Searching through the emergency room, House talked to the charge nurse who confirmed a woman and a male had been brought into the ER after being in an accident, but she didn't know anything about whether the woman had coded.

"They took her to surgery almost two hours ago. She had lost a lot of blood." The nurse said.

House made his way up to the surgical observation level and looked down on the operating table. A large video monitor showed the operation up close. The room was a flurry of people running around with the two surgeons the center of the activity. House recognized Parsimmons as one of the surgeons. He was a mediocre neurosurgeon, not really the one that he wanted treating Annie. _But is it Annie?_ He couldn't tell. The woman's head was turned sideways with sterile towels outlining the area of the brain that they were working on. From what he could see, there was bleeding and swelling in the brain cavity, definitely one of the main reasons for someone to code, but he still couldn't see if it was Annie. House could tell that they were nowhere near being finished with her so he went down to the charge desk and asked about the woman on the table, indicating by flashing his PPTH I.D. that she might be one of his patients. The nurse pulled the file.

"Darcy Finnegan, DOB 6-11-72, traffic—"

"Did you say she was born on June 11th?"

"Uh, yes…June 11th, 1972."

House knew it had to be her. "Keep going."

She looked back at the intake chart. "Police simply told us that they were hit head-on by a guy who apparently had gone home sick from work…probably fell asleep at the wheel of his F350."

"They? Someone was with her?"

"From the identification on them, it was probably her husband or significant other because they both had the same address on their license."

"Where is he?"

"The morgue."

"He died?" House said more to himself than to the nurse.

"Usually they're dead when they go to the morgue."

Rolling his eyes, House nodded and went back to the surgical observatory. _It has to be her._ Still, there was a slight element of doubt and there was still no way to tell for sure. She was completely covered and what wasn't covered was being operated on or was swimming in blood or swollen beyond recognition. He saw another surgeon cutting the skin open near her abdomen. There was blood in the cavity meaning there had been damage resulting in internal bleeding. From what he could see on the screen, there was a small rupture in the spleen. Rather than do a splenectomy, the surgeon simply sutured the spleen, suctioned the blood and sewed her up. In the meantime, the neurosurgeon was still working on her brain, having removed a small section of her skull to allow the brain room to swell. An hour later she was sewn up and in the ICU recovering.

House found Parsimmons and cornered him. "Your patient, what's the prognosis?"

"What's your interest?"

"She came to see me before and I treated her, but I might have been wrong about my diagnosis."

"Well, she has ICP which we have relieved by removing some of her skull. My main concern is that she had a tear in her spleen, which we repaired, and a deep laceration that nicked her femoral artery so she lost a lot of blood and we don't have enough of her type here at the hospital. Maybe you could ask PPTH to send us some?"

"What's her type?"

"AB+"

"I'm AB+, we can do a direct transfusion."

"I don't know, we…"

"You and I know that if she doesn't get the blood she's going to die."

The surgeon stopped, pulled his cap off and put his hands on his hips. "Fine. I'll arrange it."

"But, when she's stable, I want her moved to PPTH."

"I can't do that without consent of her family!"

"Give me their number and I'll get it."

"We don't have time to play. I'll give you their phone number, but you have to do the transfusion now. If they agree to move her, I'm fine with that."

"Okay, okay…let's do this."

They took House into the ICU where he donned a gown and cap before walking over to her bed. Leaning over he looked at the body now lying flat on the sheets, her head wrapped in a bandage. Her face was swollen, both eye sockets the color of an over-ripe egg plant. He couldn't tell if it was her or not, but she was the same height as Annie and he knew if he could just see her breasts, he'd know for certain. How he was going to manage that, he wasn't sure. After all, this woman didn't know that buried deep inside of her was a woman born in the 1920's who had been to med school and fallen in love with him.

They brought a seat with a small attached desk for House to put his arm on and then they hooked him up to the intravenous transfer. He sat and watched as his blood traveled along the narrow tube into her arm and smiled. He was giving her his life and that felt good.

"That unit of blood will help a lot. Here's the phone number for her nearest relative, her father, he lives in Dublin." Parsimmons handed him an index card.

"California?"

"Ireland."

"Oh." He looked at card. Gerald Finnegan, 15 Connemara Road, Dublin. As he pulled out his cell, a nurse quickly chastised him, reminding him that cells couldn't be used inside the hospital. House frowned, but put the phone away and waited until they unhooked him from the tubing. Making his way out to the street, he noted the smell of wet asphalt and realized that it had been raining. He dialed the international code and then the local numbers for Gerald Finnegan. Over the next fifteen minutes, House had lied and charmed enough that Gerry (they were now on a first name basis) and House were good friends. Gerry had no problem with House moving his daughter, especially since they hadn't spoke to each other in years, but he was hoping that would change since he was in a Church sponsored program for alcoholics. House wondered how emotionally damaged this Darcy-woman was having grown up with an alcoholic father. Before hanging up, House promised to fax Gerry a consent form to the Catholic Community Center.

The next day, House received the fax granting him permission to transfer and treat Darcy Finnegan. He wasted no time arranging the ambulance to take Darcy to PPTH. Once there, he got her settled in the ICU before calling Foreman and assigning him as her neurologist.

Thumbing through the file, Foreman spoke out loud, more to himself than to House, "According to the file, she was four months pregnant, but lost the baby as a result of the accident. It also describes in detail the laceration on her spleen, head injury, the surgery and post-op treatment. The notes indicate that she flat-lined for two minutes on the operating table and required three units of blood, one of which they got from you. I see her husband died in the wreck. Who's taking care of his arrangements?"

House shrugged. "I don't know."

House decided it was time to find out more about Darcy so he went through the personal effects that the police had brought to the hospital. Apparently the purse wasn't her usual one because all it had was a twenty dollar bill, a tube of lipstick and her driver's license. After Mapquesting the address on the driver's license, House took a quick drive over, discovering that the house was in Dogwood, an old, established area of Princeton Township. An area where homes sat on acreage and century old trees lined driveways. As he drove up, he noticed that there were three cars in the driveway, two Lexus and a Ferrari. The house was both unusual and impressive. It was an Adirondack lodge homestead, the original "Dogwood Hill" house, tucked away on a very private lot that was at least two acres. Perched atop a grassy and peaceful knoll away from the road was a 1930's cedar split-log home that would be more appropriate in the Appalachians than in the middle of Princeton.

Knocking on the door, he was surprised when a woman in black dress answered the door. Her eyes were red from crying. "Yes, may I help you?"

"I'm Dr. House from Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. We've transferred Ms. Finnegan there. I understand this is where she lives."

"Are you talking about Darcy?" The woman perked up and seemed almost relieved by the news. "We just got in a few hours ago. We've been working on all the funeral arrangements for my brother. Where did you say Darcy is?"

"Princeton Plainsboro we moved her there for better treatment."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Brain swelling, lacerated spleen. The pressure in her brain cavity is normal now; it came down almost immediately, which is a good sign. She's in a coma, but I'm sure she'll come out of it."

"I knew it was bad, but that's horrible. What about the baby?"

"She lost the baby."

The woman's hand shot up to her mouth. "Oh, no! Oh, poor Darcy. First Luke, now the baby." She kept shaking her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Oh, doctor, please come inside." She opened the door.

House walked into the most fabulous Great Room with a vaulted ceiling, grand stone fireplace and deep cedar built in shelving. The entire east wall consisted of thick glass from the thirties. Along the window was a cushioned bench made out of deep walnut. Sitting on the deep brown leather sofa, House watched as the woman sat across from him. She was probably in her mid forties with frosted hair to hide the gray and a nice smile that had been engineered by a very good orthodontist. She was petite like Annie, but she didn't have Annie's cute figure. This woman was flat as a pancake and had no curves whatsoever.

"I'm Luke's sister, Charlotte Winters. My husband is in the kitchen with my sister calling different mortuaries to see if they can take over the arrangements." She wiped her tears. "I can't believe that he's dead. When can we see Darcy?"

House shook his head. "There's nothing to see, really. She won't even know that you're there. If you give me your phone number, I'll be sure to call you when she regains consciousness."

"Oh, of course." She stood up and went over to a table holding her purse and pulled out a little notebook with a stubby pen. As she wrote, she looked up and asked, "Doctor, why are you here?"

"We need as much information as possible about our patients, plus I need to find her documentation for her health insurance and power of attorney."

Charlotte nodded.

"Honey, come here, the mortuary needs information about your brother." A male voice rang out from the kitchen.

"I'll be right there. Well, doctor, the documents are probably in their office in the back. You're welcomed to look around. I'll join you as soon as I handle this."

Knowing his time was limited, he made a quick tour of the west side of the home discovering that this wing contained 3 bedrooms and three baths, an office, a conservatory, and a mud room to the back yard. There were wide random-width pine hardwood floors throughout and pecky cypress walls that gave the entire house a cozy, cabin-like feel. After a quick reconnaissance, he went back through the grand room to the south side of the house to the master bedroom, discovering that out of two closets in the room, only one was filled, and it contained only women's clothing. The other closet was bare with nothing but hangers hanging forlornly. There were no pictures of Darcy or her husband sitting out on the dressers or for that matter, anywhere in the house. Slipping back down the down the hall, he discovered the second largest bedroom only had men's clothing in the closet. The third bedroom had a small selection of baby clothes and baby furniture while the fourth was apparently a guest room.

He went back to the office which consisted of numerous computers and a drafting table. He turned to look at the wall of bookcases and immediately saw a photo album on one of the shelves. House grabbed the laid cloth-covered album and opened it. The first photo took his breath away. _Annie!_ It was Annie in a beautiful red satin ball gown with red three-quarter gloves and a beautiful ruby necklace. She was staring straight into the camera, slightly bent over laughing, her cleavage bubbling up. His heart compressed until it hurt to look. He wanted her so badly, but would she remember him?

"Dr. House?"

He turned and saw a puzzled Charlotte. "I'm sorry, but we don't really know what she looks like. Her face is quite swollen and black and blue. I was just curious."

"She's very pretty—beautiful- isn't she?"

"They weren't happy, were they?"

Charlotte's mouth opened slowly as she grasped what he was saying. "Why do you say that?"

"They had separate bedrooms."

"You went into their bedrooms?"

"I can't find the power of attorney."

Her shoulders relaxed. "No, they weren't happy. In fact, Darcy was going to leave Luke, but then she found out she was pregnant."

"Why was she going to leave?"

"My brother was…well, she'd caught him having a string of affairs and had finally had enough. But, when they found out about the baby, he begged her to give him another chance. Frankly, we all knew he wasn't going to change his ways, but Darcy felt she owed it to the baby to try."

"What does Darcy do for a living?"

"She's an architect, a famous architect. She designs homes."

"She didn't design this one…it's old, right?"

"She loves historical buildings, old buildings. She also does historical restorations. She lovingly restored this house and many others. She also designs new houses for very important people."

House smiled as he contemplated the future.

"Dr. House? Don't you hear that? It sounds like your cell phone is ringing."

House, shook his head to bring him back to the present. Pulling his cell phone out, he answered, spoke to the hospital and then put it back in his pocket. "Darcy is awake."

"She is? Wonderful!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Smooth Criminal**

"Two."

"How many fingers am I holding up now?"

"None."

"Good. How do you feel?" He asked.

"Like I've been hit by a Mac truck! Oh, right, I _was hit_ by a Mac truck." She mumbled, a little spit coming out of the corner of her mouth. The entire right side of her face was a yellow-purple and her right eye was filled with black-red blood. Her head was stapled and bandaged around her head sutures. A large patch of her hair had been shaved for the operation. She looked like she should hurt like hell.

"Do you need additional pain meds?"

"Yes!"

He walked over and adjusted an IV and then walked back over to her bed.

"You said you were Dr. House? Are you my surgeon?"

"No, I'm your general attending."

"No offense, but I think my physical damages require someone with a little more expertise."

"You don't think I'm up to the task?"

"I don't know one way or the other. But surgeons are supposed to be on the top of the food chain, right?"

House snickered, but kept his cool, calling the neurosurgeon who had been assigned to Darcy, asking him to stop by for a visit. Leonard Goldstein was in his early fifties and more than adequate at his job. He was at the top of the sugical food chain at PPTH and surprisingly, he was the one surgeon who seemed to actually get along with House. He showed up fifteen minutes later.

"Ms. Finnegan? I'm Doctor Goldstein, the neurosurgeon assigned to your case. I just want to say what a fan I am. I put a bid in on the Olive House, but lost out. I regret not going higher."

"Thank you. That is a gorgeous Mission." She sucked back some spit that was about to seep out of her mouth. "Doctor, I just want to know what's next?"

"Didn't House tell you?"

"No offense, but I thought I'd ask the surgeon?"

Goldstein turned and looked at House for his approval to speak. House gave him a slight nod of the head. "Uh, well, your swelling came down after the pressure relieved the pressure in your skull by removing a five by five section of your skull for a few days. Unfortunately, you lost a lot of blood which, along with the brain swelling and concussion, caused a coma for the last two days."

"When can I leave the hospital?"

"You need monitoring because you're still not out of the woods. You could develop abnormally high or low levels of sodium, calcium, sugar, or other substances in the blood that can worsen confusion and precipitate seizures. Brain trauma patients also are at high risk for infections, including pneumonia, urinary tract infections, and sinusitis, which must be treated promptly and aggressively." He turned and looked at House. "I'd suggest at least another two or three days?"

House nodded.

"Thank you, doctor, now how is my husband?"

"Dead." House said flatly.

"House!" Goldstein said, shocked by his bluntness.

"Well, he is, right? Your husband was killed in the accident." House watched her reaction and was surprised to see deep sorrow. Her chest started to heave as a guttural sound of emotional pain escaped from deep inside of her.

"Dead? Oh, no, not Luke." She grasped at the sheet on her bed and held it tight, more to get a grip on her life than to settle herself. "I take it that the baby didn't make it either?"

House nodded. "Dead too."

Goldstein took a few steps towards her bed. "I'm sorry. You weren't brought here right away so I didn't have a chance to try and save the baby. You were transferred over here yesterday."

"Why?"

"Because Princeton General sucks and we're better." House interjected.

She looked confused. "On whose authority?"

"Gerry's."

Her mouth slipped open wide. "My father? My father is here?"

House shook his head. "He gave me authority to move you so I did. I had your power of attorney; your father assigned it to me."

"Why you?" She said, although she was clearly losing steam.

"Because I asked him to."

"Why?"

"I thought you would get better treatment over here."

"But why me? We don't know each other."

"You look tired. We'll talk about this later." House remarked, not wanting to admit that he was in love with the woman deep, deep, down inside her.

Nodding, she finally turned to her sister-in-law. "Charlotte, thank you for coming."

Charlotte rushed forward and grabbed her hand. "I'm so sorry about you, the baby, Luke…" she swallowed back her tears. "We're making all the arrangements for his cremation and memorial. It's scheduled for the day after tomorrow."

"Will I be able to attend?" She addressed the question to Goldstein.

"I wouldn't recommend it. You'll probably still be in here." Goldstein said.

Charlotte squeezed her hand. "Darcy, its fine. No one will expect you to be there. We'll explain to everyone why you can't be there."

"His ashes?"

"He wanted them spread at sea. Is that okay with you?"

Darcy nodded. Luke 's family owned several yachts while they were growing up. Both Luke and Charlotte had inherited one when their parents died. They both kept their yachts docked in Myrtle Bay, at their parent's home which they had jointly inherited. Luke's share would now go to Darcy as a part of a will that had never been changed. "He'd like that," Darcy said as her voice trailed off.

Charlotte backed away from the bed still smiling. "I'll come back to see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Thank you, Charlotte. You've always been good to Luke and me. Give my love to the family."

Charlotte nodded and said her goodbyes to House and Goldstein who had been discussing treatment while Charlotte spoke with Darcy.


	16. Chapter 16

**Part II**

**Chapter 16**

**A New Perspective**

I woke up in pain, lots of it. Even worse, I didn't know where I was or what had happened. I was groggy, still trying to figure out what was going on, when this scruffy gray haired man started grilling me about how many fingers he was holding up. I was in pain and in no mood to do arithmetic. This scraggly man claimed he was my doctor, but he didn't really look the part so I asked for my surgeon.

I have to admit; I don't really remember much about the first few days in the hospital except that the scruffy doctor blurted out that my husband had died in the accident, bringing back the memory of seeing Luke crushed behind the wheel, apparently taking the brunt of the Ford F350 that had hit us.

Charlotte, my husband's sister, had stopped by to tell me about the cremation arrangements and to wish me well. I like Charlotte; she's always treated me well and even took my side when Luke admitted that I was going to divorce him because he had been cheating. Of course Charlotte wasn't fond of cheaters, not after her first husband had made her the laughing stock of the yacht set by screwing anything that moved. A good pre-nup and a great lawyer ended the marriage with the ex getting absolutely nothing from the family trust. I liked Charlotte for doing that.

But then I found out I was pregnant and Luke, who had always wanted to be a father, begged me to stop the divorce, give him a second chance. Call me old fashioned, but I thought that the baby deserved a chance to have both a mother and a father to start out in life and it wasn't that I didn't love my husband, I just couldn't trust or respect him. I acquiesced, but we slept in different rooms and didn't have sex. I was too hurt to be intimate with him.

But even this truce didn't last long. I should have known he couldn't keep it in his pants for longer than two weeks. I was four months pregnant when we went to New York City for the opening of his new protégé's art show. It was there that I noticed the glances between them—the same glances I had noticed between him and his ballerina, the one who got pregnant. Apparently when he offered to dump me for the ballerina and the baby, she laughed and told him that she was getting an abortion and moving in with her new boyfriend, a Wall Street hotshot.

We were arguing on the way home, Luke finally admitting that he had slept with his protégé the previous weekend. I started crying, tissue to my eyes when I looked up and saw a truck suddenly veer into our lane. There was nothing we could do to stop the ton of steel hitting us head on. Luke and all his cheating were a thing of the past in the snap of a finger.

And now I felt nothing.

I felt empathy for his sister because I could see her pain, but I felt nothing for my dead husband. I knew that I still had feelings for him when the accident occurred, but lying here, on the hospital bed, I felt nothing and I didn't understand why.

I also didn't understand why my father had apparently given this odd doctor power of attorney over my treatment. More importantly, why did this odd doctor insist on having it? I couldn't think too long or my head hurt. I decided to get well and then worry about my feelings and this strange man's actions when I was better.

Dr. Goldstein came to check on me the next day. Dr. Weirdo hadn't left—really, he hadn't left! I was beginning to feel like this guy was stalking me. He was there whenever I woke up, sitting in the corner with a nest of journals and a pile of rubbish from vending machines. Doctors would come in, consult with him and then leave.

Charlotte made an appearance several times, even brought me the memorial brochure which had a wonderful photo of Luke sailing his yacht and one of those cheesy poems inside about dying. A short biography graced the back. The ashes were to be taken out on the Atlantic and spread the following week and, of course, I was invited if I could make it. I wouldn't.

The room had been kept dark for most of the time and then six days after the accident, Dr. House barked at me, "You need to get your ass out of here and start walking or you'll get pneumonia. Come on…" Throwing the covers off of me, he put an arm under my arm and pulled me out of bed. We dragged my IV out to the hall and down to the elevator. My coordination sucked. I had a hard time keeping balanced. Without Dr. House holding me up,I'd have been on my butt several times. In the elevator, I finally got a good look at him—in the light.

His face was lined as if he had never really been happy. The eyes were intelligent, too intelligent, as if he passed judgment easily. They were large, blue and watching me—always watching me. He had a serious limp, walking with a cane. I wasn't sure if the cause was congenital or some kind of accident.

"Dr. House, why are you so interested in me? You don't even know me."

"You seem familiar to me. Don't I seem familiar to you?" He sounded a little too anxious; as if he wanted me to say yes.

Staring at him, all I could feel was confused so I told him the truth. "I'm unsure. I just don't know." We were now standing in a conference area complete with table, chairs, desk, kitchenette and white board. I was already tired, so I took a seat in one of the office chairs. "Dr. House, I have to ask a question and I know I'm going to sound heartless, but I don't feel any sorrow over my husband's death. What's wrong with me?"

I saw a flicker of a smile flash over his face and then he turned serious. "It's not unusual for people who suffer a brain injury to have memory loss, personality changes, distractibility and general cognitive impairment. You were hit in the front and side, which could easily result in emotional and personality instability, probably temporary, but possibly permanent."

"You mean my lack of feeling for my dead husband may be permanent?"

"Maybe. There's no way to tell just yet. But, from what I understand, you and your husband weren't exactly getting along, right?"

"True, but our situation was extremely painful to me because I did care so much about him."

He thought for a moment and then nodded, "It's just possible that you're numb, that you're going through a lot right now, or like I said, the brain injury has caused some damage to your limbric system or prefrontal cortex."

"If I'm damaged, does it mean that I won't love again?"

"Possibly, but doubtful. Sometime these injuries act like a reboot. Your hard drive is wiped clean of feelings, but you can write over the clean hard drive."

"I did feel affection for my sister-in-law."

"Well, see, not all of your emotional memory was lost."

I nodded; it did seem to make sense. "Dr. House, where did you grow up?"

"All over. My father was a Marine. We were stationed all over the world. Why?"

"Just curious. Med school?"

"Hopkins…and a semester at Michigan."

Good schools. If he was so educated why did he look like he'd spent a weekend in jail? "What's your specialty?"

"I'm board certified in nephrology, infectious diseases and if there was such a field, diagnostics."

"Diagnostics?"

"A new field. I'm the last resort for patients that no one can diagnose."

"And you can diagnose the undiagnosable?"

"Usually."

"Hmmm. Do you get a lot of clients?"

"Usually one a week."

"One patient a week?"

"They're usually dying which means we're working around the clock running tests. It's not easy."

"Did I have a difficult diagnosis?"

"No. Pretty straightforward—screwed up by a car accident."

"I'm still trying to understand why you're my doctor. Can we go back? I'm really tired now."

As we walked back, he asked me where I went to University. "Cal Poly San Luis Obispo."

"Is that a good school?"

"For architecture. It's the best public school that offers a degree in architecture."

"I hear you're some hot shot in architecture."

I had to laugh. Putting hot shot and architecture in the same sentence seemed incongruous. "I have a reputation of sorts. The historical societies in several cities have me on speed dial. I do a lot of renovations for cities and homeowners. Occasionally I design a house for someone. But, if you like ultra-modern style homes, I'm not your architect. I like homes that feel comfortable, have character, but with modern conveniences."

"Your house is comfortable." He said as he pressed the elevator button.

I flinched and narrowed my eyes. "How do you know?"

"I went there to find the necessary documents for your power of attorney. That's how I met Charlotte. She was there getting ready for the memorial."

"I still didn't get an answer to my previous question. What were you doing at Princeton General and why did you take an interest in my case?"

"I was visiting a friend and saw you come in. I heard the nurses tell the doctor that your husband was dead and that they didn't know how to contact any next of kin. You seemed alone, as if you needed someone to make educated decisions for you until they could find a relative. They were going to put a shunt in, but you clearly didn't need one, so I spoke up and nixed the idea."

It sounded logical, but I kept hearing a voice inside saying, _bull shit, bull shit. _Yet, I said nothing. When he tucked me back in my room, I asked, "Why are you here 24/7?"

"I just want to make sure that you're okay. You're not out of the woods yet. Plus, I can diagnose from here in your room just as well as down in my office."

"If all goes well, when can I go home?"

"You could go home tomorrow if you have someone to watch you."

"I'll find someone."

"Me."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll watch you…during the evening and night. You can find someone to watch you during the day."

The hairs on the back of my neck went up, he was getting creepy. "No, thank you. Frankly, you're freaking me out, Dr. House. Your interest in me is a little too Glen Close for me. Maybe I need a different doctor."

"Maybe you need to loosen up. I'm just a nice guy trying to do a nice thing here. Look, if I go home with you, I can watch out for you, make sure you're okay. I'll sleep in one of those comfortable guest rooms you have."

"Are you homeless or something? Did your wife kick you out?"

"No, but it's very quiet at home, too quiet," he said.

"And I'm supposed to do something about that?"

"You're kind of a chatty person, right?"

I didn't have a clue where he was going with this, but I had never been known to be really chatty. "No, I'm not known for my witty repartee."

"You're doing okay now."

Actually, I had talked more to this man in the last two days than I had with my husband in the last month of his life. "Well that's because you're scaring me. Why are you so interested in me? I have a swollen head, black and blue face, a set of blood shot eyes, a hole in my head, half a head of hair and a huge scar on my abdomen. Why are you my new best friend?"

He became quiet, introspective. "You remind me of someone."

"Frankenstein's Bride?"

"Someone I lost."

There was nothing disingenuous about what he was saying. "How can I remind you of someone when I look like this? I don't even know who I am when I look in the bathroom mirror!"

"I once saw a photo of you in the newspaper, you looked like someone I used to know. When I heard it was you in the emergency room, I got involved."

"So I look like this woman you knew?"

"Down to the freckles on your nose."

"Well, I'm not her."

"No, you're not her. But, I'll take care of you anyway."

The tenor of his voice was that of a man who was completely lost. This woman had meant a lot to him and her loss had hurt him deeply. I felt my voice go soft. "What happened to her?"

"I couldn't save her. She was gone in an instant."

It now made sense; he felt helpless, unable to save someone he loved so he saw me as his salvation. I guess he was desperate to make sure I wasn't going to be 'gone in an instant.' "Dr. House, it's very touching that you're trying to save her by saving me, but I think I'd prefer someone else to watch over me. You're officially off the hook. I'll be just fine."

I was discharged the next day. My assistant, Jenny Nelson, came and picked me up from the hospital. I offered her two week's pay if she would stay with me for the next ten days and she agreed. Once I got home I took a marine bath, using a wash cloth to get all the important areas since I hadn't been given the clear to take a real bath. I shaved the rest of my hair off to at least look symmetrical and went to bed, waking up at five in the afternoon from the sound of someone bringing china into the bedroom.

"Wakey, wakey, dinnertime!"

I bolted up, only to be hit with a sharp pain in my right eye that left me reeling. _"Dr. House?"_

"Oh, come now, I've seen your naked cerebellum, I think you can call me Greg." He put the tray down on the dresser. "I picked you up some Thai; I hope you like it. Wow, love the whole Sinead O'Connor hair-do."

"Where's Jenny?"

He motioned to the door. "I told her I was her nightly replacement. She happily took off with her little suitcase after making a call to someone named, Poopkins." He gave me a faux grin to let me know he found it amusing. Once again he looked disheveled. His t-shirt shouted out something about Kansas City and the poplin shirt he wore over it was wrinkled and frayed at the cuff. The outfit was topped off by dark jeans and what appeared to be new sneakers. His Caribbean blue eyes were laughing at me.

I shook my head. "I'm going to call her and tell her that you are not her replacement! Now please leave."

"How long has your hand been shaking?" He asked, his eyes now serious and fixed on my right hand.

I looked down and notice a slight twitch. "I don't know."

He pulled out his cell phone and called someone, instructing them to bring him a prescription of anti-seizure medication for Darcy Finnegan. Closing his phone, he shook his head at me. "_This is why you need me here at night!"_

"What is it?"

"You're having seizures. It's fairly common with brain injuries, but we should monitor them."

"What does it mean?"

"As long as we keep them under control they'll probably resolve over a few weeks or months or maybe never, but let's not go there."

"This isn't funny."

"I know, but we've caught it before it got worse. Do you still want me to leave you alone with someone who didn't even notice you were seizing?"

"I didn't even know it."

"That's why I'm the best at what I do—I notice things. Like I noticed your head lists to the right when you listen to me talk. Are you having trouble hearing in your right ear?"

I was stunned that he had noticed. "My head hurts on that side. It helps when I tilt it."

He nodded. "Headache? We have to take you back to the hospital for an MRI. You may have a clot."

"Oh, no. Do I have to?"

He nodded and then motioned for me to get out of bed. By the time we got back to the hospital, my head felt as if it was going to explode. The MRI revealed a small hemorrhage at the base of my skull and that meant more surgery, but it was microsurgery since they didn't have to go through my skull. Nonetheless, I was back in the hospital. More importantly, I was now in Dr. House's debt and that made me uneasy. I could sense that he was the kind of guy that would take advantage of it.

He wasn't in my room when I woke up which strangely caused me some anxiety. And the fact that I felt anxious without him made me feel even more anxious. I wanted this creep out of my life and yet I was worried when I woke up and he wasn't there. I felt so conflicted that the confliction had me wound up. What was wrong with me? I had no feelings for my husband, I felt strange without Dr. House lurking around and it seemed as if I was going to take up residence in this hospital.

"Did you miss me?" He yelled.

I looked up and was pissed when I felt a smile dart across my face. I quickly gave him a sober look and shook my head. "Dr. House, I'm grateful for what you did—"

"Saving your life?"

I sighed. "Yes, saving my life, but really, I know you have your own life to live so please don't let me stop you. Spend some time with your family and friends; I'll be okay."

He gave me a cheeky grin. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"I just—"

"After I save your life you want me to skiddadle?"

"Alright! The truth? You're weird! You're like an in-your-face stalker! You scare me."

"But when I walked through that door, you smiled. You were happy to see me."

_Damn, he saw it. How do I explain it? I don't even understand it! Why was I relieved to see him? _"Don't read anything into it. I was just glad that I had an opportunity to say thank you for noticing the seizure."

"You're not out of the woods. I'll let you out of the hospital the day after tomorrow, but I'm still going to stay with you at night."

"I don't want a strange man staying in my house at night. And by strange I mean weird!"

"Then we'll have to keep you in the hospital until we're comfortable that your seizures are under control."

He knew I wanted out of the hospital and I knew he'd keep me here as long as he wanted, until I let him stay with me. I had Luke's estate to take care of and an architectural project that was about to go into construction if we could get Princeton's historical society's approval of some modern renovations, I couldn't stay in the hospital. "What about daytime?"

He smiled. "You'll have to get in an LVN to watch you. But, you have the money so that shouldn't be a problem. Right?"

"I guess."

"Fine, I'll bring my bag on Wednesday. Do you have any single malt?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, there's some whiskey at my house. I'm sure Luke has—had- some single malt." I wasn't a whiskey drinker, but Luke had been. He liked the occasional whiskey late at night from time to time. I remembered Luke sitting in our leather Churchill chair pouring himself a double and savoring it over the next hour while he listened to music and stared out the large picture window in our Grand Room. I was always impressed with how he could milk a whiskey for that long.

I was let out two days later, driven home by Dr. House, now Greg to me. We drove through a McDonalds and I ordered a salad while he ordered a Big Mac meal—supersized. Upon arriving back at my house, I crawled up into the Churchill chair and picked at my salad.

"Whiskey?"

"You have a supersize Coke, why do you want a whiskey?"

"The Coke is a chaser."

I rolled my eyes. "In that cabinet." I said, pointing to the solid maple cabinet that we had found in Charleston the first summer we were married.

He walked over and opened the cabinet revealing dozens of top shelf liquors, including several whiskeys that apparently brought him great joy, evident by the fist pump he made.

"Thirty year Lagavulin! Hallelujah." He took the whiskey out and poured himself several shots. As he took a seat he looked up at me and I swear there was something about him that was so familiar I felt like he was family. The look of his blue eyes as they peered over the edge of the glass made me shiver. I'd seen those eyes before, felt them before. "You're remembering something, aren't you?"

"Remembering? No, I was just thinking that this seemed…"

"Familiar?"

I didn't want to say familiar because I could sense that's exactly what he was expecting me to say. "Perhaps. But it's just that this whole scene seems familiar. You, me, sitting together, you drinking whiskey, me watching. I just don't know." It was all too much. I didn't know who I was anymore. I had feelings where there had been none as well as no feelings where there had been deep ones. My mind couldn't make heads or tails of what was going on…everything that was familiar was unfamiliar, everything that was unfamiliar was familiar. Since the accident I had been a ball of electrons trying to sort themselves out, but each day I seemed even more jumbled than ever before. "Greg, how long before I feel like myself?"

"What do you mean?"

"All my thoughts are scrambled; I'm confused. I know I should feel certain things that I don't. I feel other things that don't make sense. I know this is the result of the brain injury, but will it get better?"

"Give it time; sometimes it takes months before these things work themselves out. Eat up."

When I was done, he cleared the trash and then came back and poured himself another whiskey.

"Do you always drink this much?" I asked.

"When a $300 bottle of whiskey is free I do."

I shrugged. "Sorry to be a party pooper, but I'm tired. Which guest room do you want?"

"I thought I'd take the one nearest to you so that I can hear you if you call out."

He had chosen the room that Luke had occupied for the last four months of his life. It made sense, the room had an ensuite bathroom with a deep bathtub and out the large bedroom windows was a beautiful view of the woods.

"I doubt I will need you, but that's fine." The master bedroom was the entire south wing while the generous sized guest rooms line the east wing, although the house wasn't large by any means. The square footage was somewhere between 2850 to 2900 square feet. Luke had complained about the house when we bought it, moaning that it was small and 'old.' But after my renovations and enough time to appreciate the charm of the house, he acknowledged that he never felt more at home than in the Churchill chair staring out the window. Because of the layout of the house, it meant that Greg wasn't going to be that close to my room, which gave me some relief. "I think you may need a blanket which you'll find in the hall linen closet. Do you want me to get it for you?"

"I can find it."

I excused myself and made my way back to my bedroom, surprised by how empty it felt. Before the accident, Luke had been sleeping in the guest room, having been expelled from the marital bed for cheating. Up until then we had slept together, but I soon found that I didn't miss sleeping with him. We had a king size bed so we didn't really run into each other very often, but Luke tossed and turned and sometimes snored. I slept better when he wasn't there. But now the room seemed very lonely and I missed having him-no, not him, someone- nearby. Like most things in my life since the accident, it didn't make sense to me. After an hour of staring at the ceiling and then trying to read, I finally fell asleep, but not before I heard Greg turn on the television and watch something that sounded a lot like a car race.

**Dear Readers, Thanks for reading and leaving reviews. I really appreciate each and every one of you.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**Intervention**

"I miss you. She's a pretty cold fish, not like you. Will you ever surface for good?" His voice sounded strained, worried.

"Greg? Is that you? Who are you talking to?" I reached over and turned on the light. What I saw shocked me. "Are you crying?"

He quickly wiped the tear from his cheek and pulled his hand away. Hewas sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, his hand resting on my arm. "No, I get allergies, do you have a cat?"

"Yeah, right. Who were you talking to?"

"You, you were talking in your sleep." He took out a handkerchief and wiped his nose.

"I was? What did I say?"

He looked very reluctant to tell me.

"_What did I say?" _I yelled, completely frustrated with the man.

"You called out for me and when I got to your side the only thing you said was, 'Don't wait for me. I'm here, but I'm not here. Find someone else.'"

I laughed. "_What? That makes no sense!" _But when I saw how distraught he looked, I stopped laughing. "Greg, what's going on with you?"

He shook his head. "Nothing." There was a sad sigh and then he stood, ready to go back to bed. Before he reached the door he asked, "Are you okay? Is there anything I can get you? A pill, a vibrator, anal beads?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

He said nothing further as he walked out to the Great Room and down the hall.

In the morning I got up and took another in a series of marine baths. My head was still a freakish purple white with large staples along the front and a small bandage at the base of my skull. The rest of my face was starting to return to its normal shape, but my lips were still healing from a cut and my eyes were both yellow and purple. The blood in my eyes was clearing so I no longer looked like something out of the _Exorcist._

I made some batter for pancakes and defrosted some bacon in the microwave, frying it up on the griddle while I made myself one large pancake. Greg was lured out of the bedroom by the smell of the bacon and the coffee that was now dripping through the filter into the pot. His grayish brown hair was sticking out on the sides and in the back; his new t-shirt had some nonsense written in calligraphy and his sleeping pajamas were too short, hitting the top of his ankle. I figured he must be six-two or six-three feet tall because he towered over me.

He looked at me and winced. "You know, you look like one of those zombies from that show on TV. I like what you've done with your hair."

My hand automatically went up to my naked skull. I shrugged. "At least I'll know the real color of my hair when it comes back in. I've been dyeing it for so long I'm not sure what color it is."

"Bacon?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes, and pancakes. Would you like one?"

"Two, please."

"They're big…plate size."

"Two, please. I have to go to work, when did that nurse say she was coming?"

"Soon."

He gobbled up the pancakes, bacon and two cups of coffee then scurried back to the guest bathroom to shower. When he emerged, he hardly looked any better than before the shower.

"Don't they object to you dressing like a bum?"

"Nope. I'm the best at what I do and so I get away with murder. Sometimes literally."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know, white-lining?"

"No, I don't know."

"You'd call it Euthanasia; we call it white-lining."

I grimaced. "Oh." I really didn't have anything against Euthanasia; I just didn't want to know that someone had done it. Frankly, I didn't want to be burdened with that revelation.

"You don't agree with it?"

"No, I do, I just don't want to have to lie to the police when they ask me if you ever confessed to it."

He smiled as he grabbed his keys. "I'll see you tonight. What should I bring home for dinner, poopsie-kins?" He said all tongue in cheek.

"Home?" I did a mental eye roll. "Don't bother, I'll cook for you."

"Make sure you get plenty of sleep, let the brain rest."

"I will."

I took his advice and, after calling my housekeeper, went back to bed. When I woke up I took my marine bath with the assistance of my nurse and then, with the help of my nurse, put the piles of clean clothes away that my housekeeper brought into my room. I joined them for a light lunch and made sure that the chicken I put out earlier had thawed. My housekeeper had picked up the groceries I had requested and around five I began to bake the chicken breasts in a mushroom sauce that I thought was pretty good.

Greg walked in around six-thirty looking a little worse for wear. We said good night to the nurse, Adelein, and I poured him a whiskey.

"Thanks."

"You don't look so good. What happened?"

"I could say the same thing about you." He took a deep breath and shrugged. "I'm having a hard time diagnosing my patient and I'm down two team members."

"Why?"

"Well, Chase is on vacation in OZ and Annie isn't quite herself."

"I remember Chase, but I don't think I met Annie. Is that 13's real name?"

"No, it's another team member; someone I really relied on."

"When I was in the hospital, you didn't go home when you had a patient; you stayed in the hospital 24/7. Why are you here?"

"I had someone waiting for me that needed to be babysat."

"You can go back, I don't need babysitting."

"And miss whatever it is that smells so good? Are you kidding?"

"It's chicken in a mushroom sauce, nothing special."

"Well, I like chickens. I like mushrooms and I like sauces. When do we eat?"

"I just have to cook the snow peas and we're ready."

"Good, I'll be right back."

I could hear the door on the bathroom close and a few minutes later he reappeared, joining me at the table where our dinner waited. We sat down, he poured himself a glass of wine and we began to eat . He didn't say that he liked it; he just grunted and nodded approval. I watched as he ate with gusto and then sat up and wiped his mouth with the paper towel I had put out as napkins.

"Do you ever smile?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm a misogynist. I don't really get much pleasure from daily life. What's your excuse?"

"Well, besides being disfigured, having my brain battered, my husband die and my baby abort, I don't think I need an excuse. My friends say that I work too much and use my work to avoid having a real life, but I enjoy my work, it gives me a certain satisfaction that I don't get from anything else."

He nodded. "My work is important to me too. But, I have other outlets. I have my music, my truck rallies, my poker games, my hookers. What are your outlets?"

"I used to hike, but I haven't in …" I tried to think back to the last time I had gone camping and hiked. "I guess it's been over ten years. I sometimes go to the movies, to parties, dinners."

"Are these parties given by your clients or where you meet your clients?"

I felt like I had been caught . "Some of them…" He gave me a dirty look as if he knew I was going to lie. "Okay, yes, they usually involve clients. But the movies are just with friends!" I added to emphasize that I did have a life—sometimes.

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "You are pathetic."

I huffed and puffed. "I am what I am. I take great pride in the work I do."

He took a drink of wine and continued to eat. I watched him as I finished my own meal. The way in which he turned his concentration to his dinner was flattering. He was enjoying my cooking, more so than my husband had ever done. I was confused. Luke always ate out, yet I had a deep memory of my husband sitting at the table in silence, eating without acknowledging what I had cooked, making trouble if I varied the meals from what he was used to having. But that wasn't Luke. Luke rarely ate at home, usually conducting business and his affairs late into the night, often over dinner with his clients or employees or sluts. I often worked into the night and ended up cooking myself a light meal around eight or even later. _But why did I have such a strong memory of this other man?_

"Let's go to a movie tomorrow." Greg said out of the blue.

"No. If I'm well enough, I'll be working. I'm so far behind that I need to catch up."

"So do I, but you need to recognize that, not only have you been physically injured, but you're still dealing with the death of your husband."

I couldn't look in his eyes as I confessed, "And that's a problem, I don't feel anything. I mean, I'm sorry that he's dead, but I still feel numb."

"That's sounds normal. Sometimes grief doesn't hit for awhile. Or maybe, just maybe, you don't feel grief for a lying sack of shit that cheated on you."

I let out a little laugh. "Why don't you tell me what you really think?"

He smiled at me in a way that made me want to give him a smile back. But then I thought about my child, the baby I had lost and my face must have reflected it because he put his hand on mine.

"You're thinking about the baby, aren't you?"

"How did you know?"

"I said something about his cheating which would make you think about why you stayed with him—your pregnancy-and of course then you'd think about losing the baby so your face dropped."

"You're right, that was my thought process. I guess it wasn't so mysterious." I paused and watched him. "Greg, I think I would like to go to the movies tomorrow. Do you have one in mind?"

"I'll check the web and we can pick one. No chick flicks."

"No graphic novel movies." I responded.

"Deal." He sat back, finished his whiskey and cleared both our plates. "You go watch some TV; I'll join you in a minute."

"No, I think I'll work a little. I'm feeling like I could concentrate long enough to review some specs. Do you mind?"

"A little, but I'll live."

I spent the evening working on the Davidson project, the one that had me in knots before the accident. It was behind schedule and, because of my accident ,it was even further behind. We had run into problems with the city because it came to light while we were going through the approval process that the house had originally been the county courthouse for approximately two years before the new courthouse was built. Once the courthouse was moved, the Davidsons purchased it in 1834. Because of its historical significance (I'm still wondering why two years was such a big deal) we were not allowed to proceed with our plans. Modernization of the home had to follow specific guidelines that would not intrude on the original character of the building. The only thing that my client had desperately wanted for me to include in the restoration and remodeling was central air conditioning. I had hired the best mechanical engineer, but no matter how we tried to disguise the system or what contorted structure we suggested to the planning council and historical society, it was shot down. We finally had to accept that we were going to have to have room air conditioners.

I could feel someone watching me as I continued to scour the web for just the right room air conditioners for the Davidson project. Looking up, Greg was leaning on the door. "It's ten, you should get some sleep."

"_Ten?" _I was surprised that it was so late. I had thought it was eight, maybe eight-thirty.

"Yeah. He walked in and looked down at the plans, "You draw these?"

"Me and Auto Cad. I didn't realize it was so late."

He kept looking at some of the plans and photos of other homes I had designed or renovated. "I want you to design a home for me."

I turned and gave him a look of amusement.

He stared into my eyes. "Really. I want to buy some property and build a house. I want you to help me design and build it. You're good."

I am good at what I do which is why I can charge a hefty fee, but I wasn't sure where this new found desire was coming from. "Why? I thought you owned your apartment?"

"I do, but I need a change. A lot of crap has happened in that apartment."

"Why don't you sleep on it and we can discuss it tomorrow."

"I won't change my mind." He said it without defiance, just a matter of fact.

"Okay, well we can discuss it tomorrow. I think I will go to sleep now." I began to put my things away.

"Need help?"

"No, but thanks."

"Good night."

"Good night, Greg."

I woke up late and he was already gone. It was a Friday and so I spent the day returning calls, talking to clients and getting projects back on track. I was feeling surprisingly stronger and I could now feel a fuzz growing on my scalp which I covered with a scarf or tam when someone other than Greg was around. I was reviewing the calculations from the structural engineer when I heard the front door open and close. Again the time had slipped by me and it was already 5:30 pm.

"Honey, I 'm home!" His voice rang out.

I heard some discussion in the other room and then the door close indicating my new LVN had left. The sound of his feet and cane echoed down the hall meaning he was coming back to the office. I looked up and smiled. "Hi."

He shook his head. "Now you look like Sinead O'Conner with peach fuzz."

I put my hand to my head subconsciously. "If it bothers you, throw me my tam." I said, pointing at the hat on the table.

He shook his head. "You look stunning, really. Except for the staples which kinda makes you look like you're into heavy metal. Do you get FM on those?"

I rolled my chair back and grabbed the tam, putting it on. "Did you pick a movie?"

"There's a new one out, kinda like _The Hangover."_

"A comedy?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't sound like my kind of comedy."

"Trust me. If you don't laugh, I'll be your sex slave when we get back home." He stopped and smiled into the air. "Actually, if you do laugh I'll be your sex slave too. Either way, you can abuse me."

"Oh, gee, thanks, but that won't be necessary. What about dinner?" I asked.

"Let's grab some Mexican at Baja Fresh. Fast and easy."

"Like your women?"

"Hey, don't knock yourself."

"I'm not your woman, Greg."

"Not yet."

"Greg, this kind of talk makes me feel uneasy."

Hey threw his palms up. "Just teasing. Come on, get ready and let's go."

I dressed in a jeans skirt, brown poor boy sweater and brown calf high boots. I grabbed my leather jacket and went out to join him. He looked essentially the same, a different blue shirt, different brown t-shirt, different, slightly darker, jeans, but the same overall look. He did have bright orange Nikes on that gratefully were hidden by the boot cut of his jeans.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Yeah, I like the new hat."

I was wearing a brown plaid tam to match my sweater. "Thank you."

We went out to get into his car and I balked. "You drive this?"

"Problem with that?"

"It's old and it's not even a _cool_ old car."

"It's in good shape. It had to be rebuilt I used it for a demolition derby involving my boss's house."

"Greg, you're driving a gas sucking death trap. They didn't have all the safety features back then that they do now. I can understand buying a real classic and taking the risk, but this is just a hoopty."

"Hoopty?"

"You know, junker."

We climbed into the car and started down the road. After five minutes of silence he asked, "Where are you from?"

"I was born in England when my dad was stationed at Cardington RAF. My father is Irish but moved to London to find work when he was sixteen. He eventually joined the RAF. My mother was American, met my Dad when she was stationed in England. She was in the Air Force when they met. We moved all over, why?"

He shook his head and chuckled. "I'm a military brat too. Marines."

"My father was an airplane mechanic. My mother was a doctor."

"Doctor? My dad, well he wasn't my real dad, was a fighter pilot." He saw the curiosity in my face. "My Mom had an affair with my Dad's friend. I'm the byproduct."

"Oh! So what was your real dad like?"

House shrugged. "I really didn't know him. By the time I figured it all out, I only saw him for a short period when we were living in temporary housing on base at El Toro. He was about to be transferred. I was twelve and noticed he had a similar birthmark to mine. Plus my mother refused to look him in the eye. Dad knew she had an affair, he'd done the math, but he didn't know who it was with, but I put it all together."

"Hmmm, I don't understand why people have affairs. Why not just get a divorce if you're not happy?"

"I think my Mom was happy with my Dad, but lonely. You know what it's like for a military spouse."

"Not really, we were always stationed on base with my Dad. We moved a lot, but we weren't separated."

House nodded his understanding.

When we reached Baja Fresh I realized I'd left my wallet on the table at home. "Greg, I don't have any money with me."

"Hmmm…I'm willing to pay, but I'll need something in return."

"What might that be?"

"An honest to goodness date."

"Date?"

"You know, I get dressed, you get dressed, we go somewhere nice and talk about the weather, our favorite movies, where we want to be in ten years and then we go home…if I'm lucky I score, if I'm not lucky I get a peck on the cheek."

"Is sex always on your menu for a first date?"

"It's desert."

"I don't usually have desert." I said smugly.

"Too bad, you don't know what you're missing."

"Perhaps."

The night out was delightful, I laughed like I did when I was in college. He was both brilliant and childlike, saying the most ridiculous things, trying to entice me into bed with him. Normally I would be put off, finding all his sexual innuendos vulgar and repulsive. But from him, they seemed harmless, almost sweet. I knew part of him wanted me to take him up on the offer, but most of it was said to shock me, make me think he was worse than he really was. How I knew this, I don't know. He was fairly convincing as a letch, but something inside of me kept saying that I shouldn't accept him at face value; that when it came to the opposite sex he was more bluster than substance. This voice came from deep inside me, from a place I didn't even know existed. When we got home I went to my room, alone, but I have to admit I wondered what desert would have tasted like.

**Dear Readers, Sorry, I'm late with this, but I had to go into the hospital for a test today and I was pretty woozy afterwards. Thanks for reading!**

**Kim **


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Healing**

I sent him home several days later after we had a fight. I'm not even sure why we were fighting, except that he mentioned his boss at work and how they had to go to a convention together and something inside me bristled. I don't know why I felt this way over a man who was nothing more than a glorified babysitter. Even stranger, the fight itself wasn't over her; it was over his failure to call me after I had cooked a fabulous meal and he didn't show until nine, quite drunk. After being anxious all day about him going away with his boss, the coming home drunk was too much. I figured that since we weren't boyfriend-girlfriend, I didn't have to put up with it, so I told him not to come back.

I didn't hear from him for the next month. Work became my entire focus, but I still felt as if a part of me was missing, a loneliness for someone. Was it my husband? Greg? Or was it just for someone in general? I felt like a twin and my twin ran off with the circus. So what did I do? I worked harder. I caught up in record time, my head ached, but I kept going. I had an appointment to get my stitches and staples out (the ones that hadn't already come out.) The surgeon had done a phenomenal job because the stitches that had healed were disappearing into my hair which was now a wavy inch long all over my head.

I had on a ball cap to cover the staples when I arrived at PPTH. While waiting in Dr. Goldstein's office I kept watching the door, expecting Greg to show up, but he didn't. Dr. Goldstein was impressed with the healing, suggested I use an Arnica salve for scarring and scheduled me for a follow up MRI in a month. I walked out the door and started towards the lobby when a hand grabbed my upper arm. Startled, I let out a quick scream that stopped everyone around us in their tracks.

"Darcy Finnegan?"

I turned and found Dr. Chase standing with his hand around my arm. "Dr. Chase?"

"Hi, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to give you a fright. House wants to see you before you leave."

"So why didn't he show up at the surgeon's today?"

"We have a patient but he's in his office now."

"Well, tell him that I have to get back to work." I started to walk off.

"Ms. Finnegan, please. He's going to be mad as a cut snake if I don't bring you back."

"Mad as a what?"

He sighed. "He's going to be very angry with me and that's never a good thing."

From the annoyed look on his face, he wasn't lying. "Fine, I'll go."

We walked back to House's office and found him reading a journal, his reading glasses sitting on the tip of his nose. I thought he looked surprisingly studious and wise. His blue-eyed stare was burning a hole in my eyes as I walked closer to the desk.

"Well?" I asked, using a tone that clearly indicated that I was pissed off.

"How are your stitches?"

"Goldstein seems to think everything is fine. See?" I took off my ball cap and dipped my head down so he could see the scars where the staples had just been pulled out. House nodded at Dr. Chase who approached me and looked in my hair.

"He's right, they're healing well. You'll have some scarring on the top scar towards the center, but the scar at the base of your skull will probably fade away. Make sure you use something like Mederma on it."

"So I've been told." I stood up. "Is that all?"

"Sit!" Greg barked and then he winced at the sound of his own voice. "Chase, you can leave."

I was still standing, angry that he had ordered me around. "I have to get back to work."

"Darcy, please sit down." Now calm and considerate, I could see he was anxious to talk to me but wanted us to be alone. As soon as the door closed he took off his reading glasses and placed them on the desk. "I was serious about wanting to hire you to design a house for me."

Shaking my head I snickered. "No, I don't think that would be a good idea for either of us. But, I have three referrals for architects that I give to people when I can't take on their projects. Each of them do excellent design work."

"I want you. I'll pay whatever it takes."

I sat back and looked up at the ceiling contemplating what I should do. This was a man who, as a complete stranger, persuaded me to invite him into my home to stay with me. He was a force to be reckoned with. "I'll make you a deal. I'll do it, but after it's done, you leave me alone. No phone calls, no visits, no showing up at places where I go…we're done." I was putting on a brave face because in my heart I knew that our one and only date had been the most fun I had had in years. I also had to admit that I was physically attracted to him, finding his homeless look slightly embarrassing but sexy in an, '_I don't give a damn' _way. But I had just lost a husband, a relationship that had turned toxic, I'd lost the baby that I didn't want at first and then I didn't want to live without, and I'd recovered from an accident that had rocked my world emotionally and physically. As much as I was attracted to him, I was emotionally burned out and didn't think I could handle a relationship with someone as high maintenance as Greg House.

I could see the wheels in his head turning. I knew he was thinking that it would take about three months for me to design the house and, if he hired my services to babysit the construction, another eight to twelve months to get it built. That gave him over a year to work on me. But, I also had a plan, I was going to minimize my contact with Greg, I would have my assistant run interference.

"Okay, I'll agree." He said with a curt nod.

"I need to see your property." I said.

"Property? I haven't bought it yet. I need your help to find something to buy. I don't know where to start. What's good for building on?"

"It depends? Do you want multi-story? Single-story? Would you rather buy a fixer-upper? A historical home and renovate it?"

"Which would be the quickest?"

"Well, it sounds counterintuitive, but sometimes a historical home takes longer than one from scratch. A historical building renovation can take longer because of all the requirements from multiple agencies along with the regular code requirements that go along with updating a home."

"Are there any historical homes for sale in this area?"

"A few, but they're all multiple stories."

"I want a single story like yours."

"I don't know of any in town."

"Fine, then let's look for land and build one." He said.

"You know my style of design…it's not ultra-modern."

"What makes you think I'm ultra-modern?"

"Doctor…science…logic."

"Look at my office."

"Yes, glass and clean modern shapes…"

"No, look how I fill it up with crap, eclectic crap."

"Okay, so you don't need clean lines, but you like some modern touches?"

"Why don't you come over to my house for drinks and you can see my apartment. I did some refurbishing about ten years ago when my girlfriend moved out."

"So the apartment is your style, not your girlfriend's?"

"Yes." He said.

"Okay, Friday night?"

"Friday night, what time?"

"Seven?"

"I'll order pizza."

On the way to my car I kept kicking myself mentally in the butt for agreeing to this. _What was I thinking? _ I was going to be tethered to this man for a year, possibly longer. I tried not to think about it or to let it get to me, but I ended up unable to sleep, my head aching again. When the pain became too much, I called him not realizing until it was too late that it was one in the morning.

"Greg?"

"Darcy?" His voice was filled with sleep.

"Yeah, I'm sorry to call so late, but I have a horrible headache, like nothing I've felt before. Is it related to my accident?"

"Possibly. But more than likely it has to do with something else. Describe the head ache."

"It's coming through my right eye, sharp. My face feels numb."

"Migraine, probably. I'll catch a cab and come over."

"Cab?"

"I've been drinking a little, enough to blow a .10," he said.

"Oh, no, don't worry; I'll see the doctor in the morning."

"I think I should see you."

"Tomorrow. Good night, Greg." I hung up quickly, hoping to put an end to it. I took two Excedrin, put on my nightgown and went to bed but it seemed to only get worse. Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door. "Crap!" I mumbled to myself. I got up and put on my slippers, traipsed across the great room and turned on the outside light. He was standing on the porch with his back pack hanging off his shoulder. I opened the door holding my head which was now pounding again. "I told you I'd see you tomorrow."

He pushed by me and set his backpack down. "Come over here."

I did as I was told and sat on the sofa while he sat on the coffee table. He took a black leather bag with his initials engraved in gold out of his backpack and ran me through several tests. After using his stethoscope, hammer, and ocular scope, he finally declared that I was having a migraine and that it was unrelated to the accident.

"Are you under any stress?" He asked.

I pulled back and looked into those incredible blue eyes and almost burst out laughing, but my head hurt too much. He grinned, knowing full well that he was the cause of my migraine.

"How often do you get them?"

"I don't. This is the first I've ever had."

"Annie used to get migraines."

"Bully for her. Who's Annie?"

"A friend. The one you remind me of."

"The same Annie that was on your team?"

"Yeah."

My eyes started tearing up from the pain. He reached out and started to massage my temples slowly, sensually and then he said quietly, "Come on, let's get you into bed. I brought you some medicine, but it's going to make you sleep."

"Considering it's 1:50 in the morning, that's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah. Come on." He marched me to my bedroom and helped me into my king size bed. Handing me the pill he looked around and saw the glass of water on my dresser. "Here."

"Let me at least call you a cab." I offered.

"Don't bother, I'm staying in the guest room unless you prefer I stay in here and make sure you're okay?" he said with an elf-like look .

I closed my eyes and dropped my head on the pillow. "You know just how to play me. You know I won't kick you out of my house after coming over to take care of me in the middle of the night."

"Yeah, you're like a book and I read fast."

I gave him a shoo away motion. "Good night, Greg."

He pulled the covers up over my shoulder and kissed my cheek to my surprise. "Good night Ann—Darcy."

"You were going to call me Annie, weren't you?"

"Only because we had been talking about her tonight."

"Did you love her?"

"I did."

"Is that why you've shown an interest in me? I remind you of her?"

"Yes and no. At first the resemblance was uncanny, but you're very different."

"How?"

"Annie is—was- a bundle of emotions and a little spitfire. You're contained, serious, witty, not the little spitfire she was, but you're just as determined—in a sober way. But then, both of you are…or were…kind and considerate, and very smart."

He sounded to me like he was weighing our differences in his head, ticking off each of our assets. I felt like I was in some strange competition with a dead woman, but for what?

He took a deep breath and faced me. "Are you ready?"

"For what?"

"Bed?"

The word made me flinch. The idea of him crawling in with me and making love flittered through my head just as the other part of my brain was reminding me that he was merely tucking me in. "Yes, yes, I'm ready to go to sleep."

He chuckled at how flustered I must have looked. "Orrrrr…I could just slip in between the sheets with you."

"Greeeggg." I growled. "I'm not Annie."

"Fine. I'm down the hall if you feel sick or if you need a warm body to bump up against."

"I'll keep that in mind. Good night."

"Good night."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**Two Sides of a Coin**

House tossed and turned in the bed, staring out the wood clad window at the hazy full moon which hovered in the sky over the first, thin layer of snow of the season. It made him crazy knowing she was down the hall and through the living room asleep in her big king size bed with the down comforter and fluffy pillows.

Surprisingly, he felt completely at a lost as to what he should do. He had spent the month away from her trying to come to terms with what Annie had said, _find someone else._ He loved Annie with all of his heart, or at least he thought he did. But how could he love someone he couldn't touch, couldn't hold? Annie seemed to be gone, forever buried inside of her new life. _Her new life as Darcy._

Darcy-he was oddly fascinated by her and found himself attracted to her, not only her physical attributes, but her mind and her humor—which admittedly she didn't seem to find life as humorous as Annie. Still, he loved to make Darcy laugh because her whole body jiggled when she did and yet, it seemed as if it pained her to laugh, demeaned her.

Could he really care so much for two women? Two distinctly different women who presumably resided in the same body? It pained him to think that Annie lay buried inside of Darcy. If he could magically free her, what would happen to Darcy? Where would Darcy go? Could he stand the idea of losing Darcy to gain Annie's freedom? His heart clutched and he felt his breath go shallow as his pulse quicken. _Heart attack? _ He tried to think. _No, not a heart attack, a panic attack. Just a panic attack._ Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, House was able to slow his heart rate and then the tightness in his chest eased. He opened his eyes and much to his surprise, it was daylight and he had actually slept a good four hours. Getting up to pee, he heard sounds from the kitchen.

"Coffee?" she yelled.

"Not sure if I'm up for good, yet."

"Your cell phone is out here and it's been dancing all over the table. You might want to see what all the fuss is about."

"Let me pee; I'll take the coffee."

He used the restroom and then went out to the kitchen, smelling the coffee and toast as he walked through the living room. On the table next to his cell phone was a cup of steaming coffee, milk and sugar. He began to read his text messages, most of which indicated that the patient was responding to the treatment and now they had a new patient, one of Cuddy's big donors and they needed him. The last one was from Foreman blasting him for not being at home when he drove over to find him. House took several sips of coffee before dialing PPTH.

Darcy was leaning against the counter watching him come alive during the conversation which ended with his promise to join them in a few minutes. He hung up and looked at her as she handed him two pieces of toast. On the table was the butter and jam which he lathered over both pieces.

"Tonight…my apartment at 7:00 pm. I'll cater; you bring your best whiskey."

She chuckled. "Leave your address for me."

"Wear something memorable so I can beat off later."

An eye roll and deep sigh escaped from Darcy. "You better get going if you're going to make it within the half hour you promised."

"I'm going to take my shower now."

"Good idea, your hair is sticking straight up."

He immediately patted his head to knock the hair down making Darcy squeal with delight.

"Gotcha." She laughed.

House snarled and stood up, but secretly he wanted to kiss her and the smile that brightened her face.

At five, House was relieved to find that the new patient was stable and although they hadn't nailed down the diagnosis, the treatment he'd ordered for the suspected disease, steroids, appeared to be working. He rushed out the door, evading Cuddy by ducking into the women's restroom until she passed. On the way home he picked up Italian food which he planned to reheat for her when she arrived. House began to straighten up the apartment, paying particular attention to the state of his bedroom. He changed the sheets, putting on the turquoise sateen sheets that he had purchased after reading somewhere that sleeping on 800 count sheets was like sleeping on a cloud. Then he pulled down the turquoise and chocolate Italian cotton bedspread and made the rest of the bed, making sure that the pillow case openings were facing outward. After showering and putting his shaving utensils away, he put on a fresh t-shirt and jeans then made his way out to the kitchen to fix a tumbler of extra strong martinis.

At seven sharp there was a knock on the door. House felt like a schoolboy going to his first dance. Adrenalin coursed through his body and his palms felt moist. He took a minute to compose himself before opening the door. Without giving her the smile that he was pushing down inside of him, he simply opened the door wide to let her inside.

His composure was difficult to contain once he had a chance to check her out. She was wearing a white knee length peasant skirt with a lace ruffle along the hem and a peasant blouse in purple paisley that dipped down letting the lace of her bra show briefly above the neckline of the blouse. Her thin ankles melted into her sandals. The shapely legs, beautiful cleavage, short pixie hair, all gave her the appearance of a college coed. If she had thought her casual outfit would keep him distant, she was wrong; it had just the opposite effect. It took everything he had not to cross the floor and snatch her up over his shoulder and fling her onto the bed.

"Greg? Aren't you going to offer me a drink before we tour the apartment?" She said as she looked around with an architect's eye. Darcy took in the proportions of the room, the placement of the furniture and the decorative details.

He went to pour her a martini.

"Greg, do you like this style and layout or did you buy this apartment for some other reason?" She asked.

"Other reason?"

"Cheap, location, you were renting and it was easier to buy than to move…"

"Hmmm." He thought as he handed her the drink. He thought back to the day that he had moved in, leasing the apartment for a year. He had chosen it over the others because of its location and well, he liked that it was on the bottom floor and that it had an old world feeling. Then eight months into the lease, the landlord died and his kids wanted to sell the place. House didn't want to move so he bought it, renovated the crappy kitchen and bathroom and had lived there ever since. "It was a little of everything. It's eight miles from work, close to restaurants and the night life, one story, and it has enough room. I had to upgrade the kitchen and bathroom, but I think I did a good job keeping it in character with the rest of the building."

"How big is it?"

"920 square feet."

"That is big for a one bedroom apartment in Princeton. Whew! That's one strong martini." She took another drink. "Greg, are you trying to get me drunk?" There was a twinkle in her eye that came with a little laugh.

"Well, it's either you or the blond with no gag reflex that lives down the street."

"I love Martinis, but I have to drive."

"That's what cabs are for."

She sighed. "Just show me your apartment. "

He nodded and grabbed his cane, starting for the kitchen.

"Wait! This living room, do you like having your piano and musical instruments in the living room or would you like a separate room for your music?"

He thought about it. "I like them in the same room. I see the piano and it makes me want to play. Who knows how often I'd play if it wasn't there. I'm kinda lazy."

"Okay, I understand. What about the fireplace?"

"I want one in my living room and bedroom."

"Two?"

"At least."

"Okay, we can talk other details later. Let's move on."

"My kitchen." He motioned for her to follow. "I like this. When I bought the apartment I had it remodeled."

"The cabinets are modern Shaker. Do you want to stick with that?"

"Sure, if it works with your design."

"Shaker is simple enough that I can work with it. Do you want gas?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Not necessarily. Induction is faster and takes less energy overall. The cooktop surface is easier to clean."

"I thought cooktops were slower?"

"Not induction cooktops. Can I see your bathroom?" She purposefully avoided the bedroom.

"Here." He hobbled down the hall and opened the bathroom door.

Walking into the bathroom, she took one look and smiled. "It's modern classic. I like it, reminds me of mine at home."

"Yeah, that's what I thought when I saw your guest bathroom. And through this door, voila! My bedroom."

She walked through the door and could smell him. "Tall ceilings, lovely. Tall windows too. Do you want that in your home? It obviously costs more."

"Yeah, I'd like both."

"Well, I think I have what I need." She walked out to the living room with House in tow. Putting her empty glass down, she shook her head. "Whew, that drink is so strong." She reached down and grabbed her purse.

"You're going?" He sounded desperate.

"I'm just writing down some things in my notebook. It's in my purse." She grabbed the little notebook and pulled it out, writing down some of the information that she'd just seen. "Let's sit and I'll get some more information from you."

He brought another martini over to her. She took a sip and then began to take notes. "How big do you want your home?" She looked up at him, an eyebrow raised in question.

House kept staring at her lips, wishing he could kiss them. The berry stain lipstick made her look as if she had just spent the night eating raspberries from a vine. "Big? Square feet?" He thought for a minute. "About twice the size of this. I'd like two bedrooms, at least two bathrooms, an eat in kitchen-"

"Sounds as if you'd like it a little bigger than 1800 square feet. We'll aim for 2,000. Do you have a preference for any architectural style?" She sat back and sipped on her drink.

"I'm not sure. I guess I should look through some books."

"Yes, I have plenty of them over at my house. Whenever you like you could come over." There was a giggle. "My head is beginning to spin." She continued to ask questions for the next half hour as she finished her second martini. Putting it down she tried to focus but was having trouble. House watched as she put her head back and closed her eyes. "Oh, wow. I don't think I should have been drinking on an empty stomach." She said with a smile. "I feel very drunk."

"Another martini?"

"I don't think I should."

But House got her one anyway and she took a sip. Looking up, she smiled "Play something for me."

"What would you like to hear?"

"Something from the forties."

House stopped moving. "Annie?"

She reached out for him, "Gregster?"

House's heart sped up as he leapt across the couch and grabbed her up into his arms. Squealing with happiness, she wrapped around him with her arms and legs, pulling him down to her as she slid into a prone position on the couch.

Annie, it was finally Annie under him, corporal, soft flesh, cinnamon smelling, angular and curved, Annie. "God, I can't believe that I can finally touch you."

Her mouth covered his, her tongue exploring the fullness of his tongue. She pulled back slightly. "I know. I don't know how long I'll be able to do this."

"Do what?"

"Surface. I'm not the dominant personality. We're constantly battling for control, but she's so much stronger. I have her memories, her personality, her life all weighing down on top of me. Drinking has loosened her up, freeing her mind to allow me out. I don't know how long though."

"So unless she's drunk; you can't surface?"

"I'm trying to integrate—meld both of us into one, but I'm having a hard time. Even if I do she'll always be the dominant. But if I don't integrate I don't know how much of me I can hold onto."

"Annie, I miss you."

She kissed him passionately, pushing her groin into him. "Hurry, Greg, make love to me." She undid his belt and helped him pull off his clothes. He pushed up her peasant skirt and pulled down her panties, revealing a sparse strawberry-blond triangle of soft, downy hair .

There was something strange about all of it. He was touching Darcy, but making love to Annie. He wondered how Darcy would perceive it when she sobered up. Still, there was nothing he could do. The passion he felt, the desperate desire to finally couple physically with the woman he loved so deeply was too much. His body was on fire, every Dendron firing at the touch of her hands on his body. When she pulled up the blouse to reveal her breasts, he sucked in air.

"Perfect, you're so perfect."

"She is. I was a little meatier. I like her body. Her breasts are similar to mine, high, round, pert." She placed her hands under her breasts and pushed them together, driving House nuts.

He buried his head under her skirt, soaking up the smell of her sex as she became wet from his tongue and her excitement. Pulling back he whispered, "Straddle me, Annie."

She reached down and found him hard and wet. They maneuvered into position, House sitting back while Annie straddled him, impaling herself on his shaft. They both stared deep into the other's eyes as they first coupled, the feel of their bodies joining bringing so much joy that they hugged before House's urges took over and he began to thrust, his mouth finding her nipple, his hands resting firmly on her hips, guiding her up and down in a frenzy of passion.

Annie, loved his warm skin, the smell of his sweat, the feel of the hair on his body, his breath on her breast. "I love you, Greg."

"I love you too."

"Oh, God, I'm coming. I'd forgotten how good sex with a man could be." She could feel her muscles contract and release his shaft. The low moaning sound from deep inside her rumbled into a higher pitched scream of delight as her head fell back.

She stopped moving even though her orgasm continued, so he moved for her, thrusting harder and harder as she moaned. His own orgasm was beginning just as her sounds of pleasure turned into a sound of confusion and then horror.

"What are you doing?' She screamed.

But he couldn't answer. He was in the throes of a mind blowing orgasm, his body as far up inside her as he could get. She started to untangled her arms, pushing off of him, throwing herself onto the floor, her arms over her breasts, pulling her skirt down over her crotch. She scrambled away, like a mouse scurrying across the floor.

House could see in her eyes that she wasn't Annie anymore. "Darcy?"

"_How could you?"_

"You wanted it, Darcy."

"No! I never agreed to this!" Her eyes flashed with bewilderment, anger.

"Yes, you did, I swear! Think about it, if you hadn't agreed to it, I'd have to pin you down to have sex. You weren't pinned down, were you? You were on top. And you had an orgasm. If you hadn't wanted it, would you have allowed yourself to orgasm?"

Darcy could remember the last pleasurable pulses of an orgasm, the orgasm that brought her back to reality. What he said made sense, but still she knew she hadn't wanted to make love to this man, couldn't remember even doing it until the orgasm took over. She stood, arm still crossed over her breast ,and snatched up her clothing, running to the bathroom to put it on. House watched, feeling helpless, getting dressed and waiting until she came back out.

"Did you drug me?" She asked in an accusatory tone.

"_No!"_

"I must have blacked out." She murmured although House knew she still secretly thought he had drugged her.

"Darcy, I didn't force you or drug you to have sex. You initiated it."

She shook her head as she grabbed her things and put her jacket on. "No, I wouldn't have. Even if I were attracted to you, this would have been too soon. I don't have casual sex."

He was busy putting his socks on. "Look, why don't you sit down and we'll talk about it. I'll put on a pot of coffee, we'll have dinner."

"No, I don't think so."

"Please stay and talk to me about this."

"Greg, I can't. I'm terribly confused, embarrassed, humiliated."

"Don't be." Still, she kept her momentum towards the door. He grabbed her arm. "Please, please talk to me."

She looked down at his hand on her arm and heard the gentleness, yet desperation in his voice. "What did you want to tell me?"

He had hoped she'd sit down, but she didn't. She pulled her arm gently from his hand and managed to look him in the eye.

"It wasn't just sex for me. I care about you."

"It was too soon for me, it shouldn't have happened. I don't even remember it."

"Then we'll step back, slow it down."

"I don't think so. I don't date clients."

"Just make this exception."

She stared for a few seconds and then smiled. They'd had sex and obviously she had been a willing participant because he was right…she wasn't being restrained and she had just come back to her senses at the top of an incredible orgasm. She felt drunk, but not drugged…still, what had happened? How did she black out? Was Gregory House responsible for it? The only thing she knew was that he was responsible for the incredible orgasm…something that she had never experienced before.

"We'll see. Let's design your house and then we can see whether we survive the design wars."

"Design wars?"

"There's always some disagreement between the designer, moi, and the client, you. If we make it through that, then maybe we can celebrate with a date."

"Okay, that seems fair. What do we do next?"

"Buy property."

"How?"

"I have a realtor that I work with that knows the type of lot that I like to work with. I could call her."

He looked skeptical, nodding for her to sit down. This time she did. "What is your type of lot?"

"I like a slight slope to work with, a wooded lot or one with a nice view. Water on the property is preferable, but not a deal breaker. I like the building pad to be relatively level. Boulders are great as long as there aren't that many." The entire time she spoke she didn't stop to take a breath. She knew what she liked and she rattled it off without apology.

House was impressed. "You really know your stuff, don't you?"

"You're hiring me, didn't you check me out?"

"I Googled you. I saw you had won a few awards."

She laughed. "A few?"

"Okay, a boat load. I saw a few at the house, where do you keep the rest?"

"I keep them in boxes in the garage."

Now he laughed. "Boxes?"

Nodding, she joined in the laughter. "They take up too much room."

"Do you ever rotate them?"

"Not really, I have my favorites and those stay out."

They ate and talked for another hour and then Darcy got up to leave, feeling calmer, reassured. Driving home she kept coming back to the horror of discovering that she was having sex with House and the delight of the orgasm he had given her. She vacillated between the two feelings like a pendulum.

House settled back with another drink, his head filled with emotions he couldn't sort out. The sex with Annie, using Darcy's body, had been incredible, filling an emotional and physical hole that had eaten him alive since they first had their brand of sex.

But it was Darcy's luscious body that he had touched, sucked, licked, stroked and made love to. And he'd felt vile when he saw the look on her face after she took back her body and found him having sex with her. One look said it all; she thought he was raping her. His stomach rolled. He didn't want to remember that look, the feeling that he had betrayed her. How could he care so much for her and what she thought and yet still be in love with Annie?

Maybe another drink would dull all the thoughts fighting to get his attention. He'd be better off if he didn't love or care about anyone. What the hell was he going to do? The woman he loved and the woman he _might be able to love_ were competing for the same body. The only thing he knew is that life had gotten extremely bizarre.

He wanted to talk to Annie, but apparently the only way to do that was to get Darcy drunk or give her a virus so that she ran a fever. He was screwed.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**Lots of Lots**

Friday, the realtor, a fiftyish matron, Rebecca Galt, called claiming that she had five properties lined up for viewing that would meet Darcy's usual requirements.

"Wait, you mean she's not coming?"

"No, I know what she likes and she said she had work to do, so I'm going to show them to you. Okay?"

"I'll call you back." He hung up without a goodbye and called Darcy. "You aren't coming tomorrow?"

"No, I have to get some plans done by Tuesday." Darcy said with a slight sound of annoyance.

"I'm paying you to help me."

"Greg, the realtor can help you. You don't need me."

"I want you to be there. I've never bought land before."

"Jesus Christ!"

He froze; he'd never heard her really pissed at him. "We can postpone it until next week when you can go."

There was a huge sigh. "You can't put it off. I've heard that two of the properties have a lot of interest already."

"Well, I'll just miss out."

"Damn it, Greg, don't be stubborn."

"Sorry, my middle name is Obdurate."

She laughed. "Ewww, three syllable word! You are educated. I love it when you use big words."

"I aim to please, your highness. Now, put the damn plans down and spend the morning with me looking at property."

There was a deep frustrated silence and then she groaned. "_Fine! But only for the morning."_

"Okay, works for me."

"I'll call Becky and let her know. Goodbye, Greg." She hung up.

House let an infinitesimal smile slip across his lips.

Saturday, the sleek Lexis SUV pulled up and Darcy got out, nodded at him and then got into the back seat so he could sit in front. House wanted to get in the back with her, but obliged the two women by getting in front. They drove through the streets, House silent while the two women discussed the properties they were going to see using words like gradient, slope, loam, clay…things he cared nothing about so he let his mind drift back to the night they had sex. When the car started to slow, he came out of his reverie with a slight erection that quickly went away.

Becky started spewing details as they got out of the car. "1.4 acres, woods, no easements, utilities to the property line, neighbors on the south side, no water, view of the woods."

House walked ten feet onto the property, thinking to himself that it seemed quiet and beautiful when he heard Darcy behind him bark out.

"No. Come on, Greg, we're going."

"Huh? We just got here." He protested.

"Your neighbors on the sound are too close to your property line. I intend to orient the living room to the southwest for the best sunlight during the winter." She was already getting into the back seat.

House looked at Becky who smiled and shrugged her shoulders; apparently she was used to this. They traveled a few miles and pulled up at a property that was heavily wooded. Darcy was out like quick fire, walking the property in front of the other two at a much faster pace. House looked over at Becky again who gave a smile of approval.

"This is good; she's excited." Becky said.

"But this is like a forest."

"She likes nature, forest. She'll cut half the trees down and instead of carting them off; use them in your house. She's a master of her trade."

Darcy had covered the entire length of the property by the time House and Becky had reached the center.

The property was sloping slightly down towards a pretty creek that bubbled over two levels of waterfalls. He could hear the creek, the waterfalls and Darcy giggling like a schoolgirl.

"_Isn't it gorgeous? Greg, don't you love it?"_ She climbed the slope back up to his side. Seeing the blank look on his face she just became more animated. "Don't you see it? Your bedroom will face downstream to that view…_that view! Look at it!_"

House turned and looked out in the direction she was pointing and he had to admit it was ideal. If you looked through the trees which he assumed would be thinned out, you could see the creek as it curved back around towards the property. Across the creek were woods and a meadow with flowers.

"I'll make a seating area where you can see this clearly. Becky what is that over there?" She pointed to the other side of the creek where there were no houses.

"It's a natural preserve."

Darcy actually jumped up and down with glee. House had never seen her so excited. A squeal came out of her mouth that was both unexpected and amusing.

"What's so exciting?" House asked.

"It will never be built on. That view is there for life!" She turned to Becky. "Tell me about the property."

"No soils tests, but there are utilities 600 feet down the road. You do have sewer hookups next to the property. Nearest neighbor on that side built their house on the other side of their property. You can see the neighbor on the north side, but you can see their home sits much further east, away from the creek. It's 1.6 acres."

Darcy kicked some of the soil. "The soil will be fine. I built a house just up the road on the east side. How much for the property?"

"Two hundred fifty thousand dollars."

Not knowing if it was a good deal or not, House showed no reaction.

Darcy looked at House. "We don't have to look at the other properties. I see your house here, it's perfect."

"But what about restaurants, night life?"

Her back straightened and her freckled arms crossed over her chest in annoyance "Greg, if you want that, stay in your apartment or buy a bigger apartment. Or remodel a house in town."

House quickly withdrew his query, realizing that she was serious. If she wanted to build the house out here, he would do it and then sell it if he had to. He knew that she normally didn't take on clients like him. She built three, maybe four projects at a time and they were always high end homes costing millions of dollars. Their resell value was always more than it cost to build because her homes were in demand.

"You're right, this is perfect." He said, nodding heartily.

A smile ripped over her face. She grabbed his arm. "Look, the view of the waterfalls will be out your great room windows. You'll have a wide porch out front which we'll put a porch swing and rockers. I'll put a screened room on the side with the same view of the waterfalls. It will be perfect, Greg, perfect!"

"So we don't need to see the other properties?" Becky asked.

"Well, maybe we should see them, but my heart says this is it."

Becky whispered to House on the way back to the car. "She always does this. Finds the perfect lot but still keeps looking. It's as if she has to prove to herself that it's the best out there. Total waste of time, but she's a genius and she's entitled to waste a little time."

In the car Darcy asked Becky, "How much do you think we will get it for?"

Becky thought for a moment. "With the Nature preserve, it's a prime piece of property, but in this climate, probably Two hundred and ten thousand."

"Excellent price." Darcy said.

"Will you do the negotiations?" House asked Darcy.

"Oh, good God no!" Becky said. "If they find out that Darcy is the architect and wants this property, the price will go up."

"What are you, Super-Architect?"

Darcy rolled her eyes.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Building a Relationship**

House made an offer on the property. After a week of negotiations he purchased it for two hundred thousand. By the end of May he owned a buildable, wooded lot with a creek. Sitting in Triumph's, an antsy House was on his second whiskey when Wilson walked through the door looking for him. They exchanged nods as Wilson approached. The circles around Wilson's eyes, the relaxed tie around his neck and the slumped shoulders told House that Wilson's heart wasn't really here, he'd rather be home relaxing in front of the television with a beer.

"Why here?" Wilson asked as he took a seat at the bar next to House and looked around.

"I like to watch the coeds."

"Really?" Wilson asked because clearly there weren't that many coeds in the bar or restaurant even though the establishment sat across the street from the entrance to Princeton.

"Nah, I got a tip that someone was going to be here tonight."

"Who?"

"My architect."

"Darcy?"

"Darcy Finnegan herself." House announced as he swirled the whiskey in his glass and took a long sip.

"She's meeting you here?"

"Not exactly."

Suspicious as usual, Wilson narrowed his eyes. "House? What are you up to?"

"I got her contract in the mail and I want to make some changes."

"Like what?"

"I want more one on one. She has down a total of 10 additional hours of on-site inspections after the design is approved. I want 40."

"Why? Oh wait, I know this answer. You just want more one on one, literally."

House wasn't listening; he had spied Darcy walking into the restaurant with a man on her arm. His brows knitted together as he continued to stare in her direction, dissecting the looks of the man who was accompanying her.

"Who is that with her?" Wilson asked.

"Who indeed?" House put his drink down and waited as she approached, unaware that he was in front of her until it was too late to deviate from her advance.

Swallowing hard, Darcy shook her head but addressed him, "Hello, Greg. Fancy meeting you here," she said with some sarcasm. "Gregory House, this is Lawrence Rutger, Lawrence this is Dr. Gregory House and Dr. James Wilson from PPTH. Dr. House is a client."

The medium height man with silver hair reached out to shake hands. The impression given from his haircut and Armani suit was that this man was probably a banker or straight off of Wall Street. "Really? I'm quite impressed. You managed to get Darcy to design a home for you? She hasn't taken on many clients recently. What did you have to do-sleep with her?" He laughed indicating he was teasing.

"Something like that." House said, his blue eyes making contact with Darcy. "How do you know Darcy?"

"Her husband and I went to college together."

"He's dead, so you figure you'll just swoop in for the leftovers"

Lawrence pulled his head back in shock and knitted his eyebrows. "I can assure you doctor, that I'm not swooping in for anything. Darcy is a very old friend—"

"She's not that old."

"—and I wanted to see how she was doing."

"Greg, you're impossible." Darcy grumbled as she shook her head with disapproval. "Well, we have reservations in the restaurant. It was nice seeing you both." It was said, but everyone knew she didn't mean it.

"Wait a moment." House said, grabbing her shoulder.

She turned and faced him, looking down on his hand which he slowly removed. Staring up into his face, she raised a questioning eyebrow. "What, Greg?"

"I need to discuss your contract."

"Not here. Call me."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

He nodded.

The next morning at 7:45 am Darcy rolled over and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Were you asleep?"

"I had a late night."

"With ol' Lawrence?"

"Yes, Lawrence and I stayed up late talking."

"And screwing?"

"None of your business." She covered the receiver and pretended to talk to someone just to annoy him.

"Who were you talking to?" House growled.

"No one."

"Is he there in bed with you?"

There was a click. She had hung up. House bit his lower lip to keep from screaming. Cuddy walked into his office and could see he was fuming.

"You're here early. What's wrong?" She stood, tight Glen-plaid suit with a blue low-cut blouse, holding a file in her well manicured hands.

"Women."

Cuddy shifted to one leg and frowned. "What about women?"

"I think she's sleeping around on me."

"Who? I didn't know you were in a relationship."

"It's all in his head." Wilson said from the door. "He thinks he's having a relationship with his architect when all it really happens to be is one night of alcohol induced sex."

Cuddy looked over at House with disgust. "You got a woman drunk and took advantage of her?"

"More the other way around."

Cuddy started laughing. "And she doesn't call, write, send flowers?"

Wilson joined in.

"Yeah, make fun of the guy you dumped." House snapped.

Cuddy stopped laughing. "Here, your new patient is being transferred." She threw the file on the desk and took off leaving Wilson, lab coat on, to listen to House's rant.

"I don't believe her. She's screwing that guy."

"House, she's over 21 and single, she can screw whoever she wants."

Taking the file, he barged into the next office, threw it on the table and after forty minutes of differentials, told the team to, 'deal with it.' They watched as he grabbed his keys, helmet and took off. It was a crisp spring day with a promise to get warmer. He zipped through the streets of Princeton towards her house, arriving at her doorstep fuming even more than when she hung up. When he got to the house, he banged on the door but no one answered. Using the key he had copied, he walked in calling out her name but there was no response.

Her bed was made and the room straightened. He couldn't tell if there had been a man in her bed or not. Walking down to the guest room, it was clean and tidy too. The only signs that someone had been there with her were two dirty wine glasses and an empty bottle of pinot noir on the kitchen island bar.

The office yielded nothing, her calendar on the computer had nothing written for the day except a deadline to file for a permit with the city on a project. Frustrated, he took off, thinking about the day they found the property; how elated she was. He hadn't been back to the property since that day so he took a detour and drove through the back roads to the street it was on, Santa Lucia. Driving up his new street he saw her car parked next to the 'Sold' sign. His heart started to race.

When he got off the motorcycle, he could see her sitting on a small blanket in the middle of the property staring down at the water, a sketch pad in her lap. He took his helmet off, pulled out his cane and walked towards her. She had on a plaid shirt over a t-shirt with jeans. A twig snapped under his boot, making her turn sharply towards the sound. She smiled.

"Hello, Greg."

"Why did you hang up?"

"Because you were being a child. You and I are not a couple and you're just my client, not my boyfriend. I don't owe you an explanation about my whereabouts or who I've been with."

He used his cane to drop himself onto the blanket next to her. They said nothing for a few minutes and then she turned to him.

"I'm jealous." She said sincerely.

"Jealous?" He asked.

"I love this property. That creek, the falls, they're all so beautiful."

He could hear longing in her voice, the kind of longing a child has when they see their friend with a new bike. They don't hate their friend; they just wish they possessed the bike. "Play your cards right and I might invite you over for barbeques and sleep overs."

She chuckled. "I came over to get some ideas. Would you like to see some of my sketches?"

"More than one design?"

"I wasn't sure what kind of house you would like me to design. I put numbers on the back of each one in the order of what I think would go well on this property, but don't look at the, just look at the design and let me know. They're not in order."

He took the four sketches and studied them. "Is there a name for their style?"

"This is contemporary, lots of angles, windows; that's prairie style, designed to compliment flatter areas, but I could adapt it to do well here too; here's French Country and finally, this one is a blend of bungalow and craftsman."

"I don't like the French Country, so that's out. The prairie is nice, I like it better than the contemporary and I really like the Craftsman. So, what's your favorite?"

"Turn them over."

He turned them over and saw that she had the Craftsman as number one and the Prairie style second. He smiled and nodded. "I think the Craftsman is a good choice, it fits the topography too."

"I'm glad you agree. But, do you really agree? Or are you saying this because I like it?"

"I'm not spending $600,000 on a house to please you. No, I'm kind of an old fashion guy with a modern twist."

"Exactly my thought. You work all day in a contemporary environment, but when you go home it's brick and mortar, a fireplace, tall ceilings, molding, shaker cabinets, library shelves. It's definitely not a modern look, but it has contemporary fixtures. Greg, do you want me to design this house as if you'll be alone?"

"What do you mean?" He looked offended.

"I would normally put in two walk-in closets in the master, double vanities, you know, some features that appeal to women. But your apartment was very masculine and I was just wondering. What do you think is in your future, Gregster?"

"Gregster? You just called me Gregster."

She looked shocked. "No, I didn't."

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond. He wanted her in his life, or Annie, or both. "Well, I should make it marketable, right? Design it as if a couple were going to live in it."

She leaned back on her elbows. "Okay. I can do that."

Lying back and rolling on his side he faced her. "You look beautiful today. So calm and peaceful."

She blushed. "Thank you, but I don't feel beautiful."

"You're nuts. This light, your outfit, you look like a young girl."

"You're flattering me to get something."

"No, but if it gives me an edge…"

She laughed and shook her head. "Damn, you're persistent, aren't you?"

"I like you."

"You do?" She said with a twinkle in her eye.

"You already know that though."

"Why are you really building this house?"

"So I can live in it."

"No, you've got the perfect place for you…a man cave for a very odd man."

He went silent for awhile. "You asked a few minutes ago about living alone. Well, I've been alone most of my life. I need to change things or I'll never find someone. If I live in a house that can accommodate someone else, then I've taken one step towards finding that person, haven't I?"

She thought about it. "Greg, you're good looking, smart, make plenty of money; you should have no problem finding someone."

"Oh, I can find someone as long as I have enough money in my wallet and don't kiss her on her mouth when we have sex. I'm looking for someone I can kiss on the mouth." House leaned in and brushed his lips over hers before pressing them, his tongue sliding gently between hers in search of her elusive tongue.

Lying there, Darcy had wanted him to kiss her and no matter how much she tried, she didn't understand why. After their lips connected, she didn't care why. He was gentle yet sensual, making the exploration of her mouth with his tongue a cross between romantic and erotic. If she didn't pull back she knew she'd find her panties around her ankles.

"Well, that was—" As she pulled back, Darcy's phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and saw that it was from Lawrence. "Oh, it's Lawrence." Putting it up to her ear she answered. "Hello…how was the meeting this morning?" There was a lull while she listened.

House watched her, pissed that her phone had rung, even more pissed that it was Lawrence.

"Well, you have a key, just make yourself at home. I'll be home in half an hour. Bye." She put the phone back in her pocket and with some urgency asked, "So you want me to proceed on the Craftsman design?"

House did an abrupt change from kissing a willing participant to jealous lover. "Key? He has a key to your house?"

Shaking her head, she started to put her things away. "He has a key because he's going to stay with me. He's here in Princeton for a few weeks on business and it makes no sense for him to stay in a hotel when I have room. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get home to welcome my house guest." She picked up most of her things and tried to stand, but slipped on some wet leaves, coming back down onto House who cushioned her fall and eased her onto the blanket , taking the opportunity to kiss her again. At first she resisted, miffed at his assumption that he could tell her how to live her life. But when his hand found its way under her t-shirt and she felt his tentative touch on her skin around her waist, she could feel her entire body yield. As soon as the kiss ended, his hand started to slip slightly higher and his mouth sought hers out again.

Pushing him back, she cleared her throat and began to stand again. "I've got to go."

"You want it."

She snickered, pretending to be in control. "Yeah, I wanted it so much that I'm getting up to go home. Greg, you're my client, try to behave like one."

He sat up and grinned as she tried to pull the blanket out from under him. "You wanted it."

Rolling her eyes, she answered, "Yeah, right. You just keep believing it if it makes you feel better."

House stood up and followed ten paces behind her as she walked to her car. Turning around to confront him, she saw him stop in his tracks.

"Greg?"

He turned his head suspiciously, "Yes?"

"Do you want to sell this property?"

"To you?"

"Yes, I'll give you what you paid for it, plus all your expenses and some extra on top of it."

"What would you do with it?"

"Build a house."

"But you have one."

"I know and I don't think I'd be able to part with it, but this property just sings to me. I should have bought it out from under you, but…"

"You have scruples. Well, sorry, but it's mine. But, like I said, if you play your cards right, I'll let you stay over."

She chuckled as she opened her car door. "Yeah, but the price of a room might be too high."

"For you it's free—"

"As long as I let you kiss me on the lips."

"Yep, and I don't really care which set of lips I'm kissing."

"Oh, God." She climbed into the car shaking her head, but smiling.

House returned the smile with one of his own—a naughty smile.

**Dear Readers...**

**Well, is he falling in love with Darcy's personality or the deeply buried Annie? Let me know if you're enjoying this. I appreciate the reviews! Gorby.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**Impossible Man**

I drove off laughing to myself. Greg was too much, but in many ways it was refreshing. I always knew what to expect from him—the worst. He said what he thought and did whatever it took to get what he wanted. I could respect that—to some degree. It was annoying that he was so persistent, but then again he was a great kisser.

It hadn't been all that long since my husband had died and yet here I was kissing another man not to mention that I had also spread my legs for him. I felt sheepish and a little bit like a slut. But when I was around him, it was so much fun playing with him. I knew that when I hung up on him this morning that he'd come running. The guy is so jealous it's almost pathetic. The fact that he found me was impressive or maybe it was just dumb luckl it didn't matter, he found me and I'd gotten a snuggle out of the little rendezvous. But, I wasn't ready yet for a relationship, especially with someone as manipulative as Gregory House.

I have to admit, I still wasn't sure that Greg really wanted a house or if he was just willing to build one to get close to me. I also didn't understand his obsession with me. We had gotten to know each other over the last few months as a result of the time we spent together, but it wasn't like he knew enough that would warrant this kind of an attachment. Normally, I'd be getting a restraining order against someone as relentless as Greg, but something inside of me felt as if we had known each other our whole lives and that his stalking tendencies were relatively harmless.

Once home, I found Lawrence waiting for me with his luggage in the living room. "Back here, Lawrence, the guest room is this way." He followed me to the guest room and put his luggage inside. "I'll let you settle in. The dresser is empty except for the bottom drawer. Half the closet is empty too, feel free to use it."

"Thanks, Darcy, I really appreciate this."

"No problem."

I retired to my office to complete the permit process for her Hunter project while Lawrence unpacked. It wasn't long and his head appeared in the doorway to my office.

"Working hard?"

I nodded, "But I'm up for a break."

"Have you heard from your doctor client?"

"The persistent one? Yeah, he showed up at the property this morning while I was there."

"Did he interrupt you or were you able to get some work done?"

"Surprisingly, I did. I showed him some suggested designs and we've agreed on a Craftsman."

"That's fortuitous since you are the queen of Craftsman."

"Yes, I am!" I said as a laugh escaped my lips.

"It's good to hear you laugh again."

"Again?"

"Well, even before Luke died, you seemed deeply unhappy."

I sighed and nodded. "He was cheating on me."

"I know, I found out a few weeks before he died. I'm sorry. I'm surprised you stayed with him."

"I wouldn't have but I found out I was pregnant a few weeks after I asked him for a divorce. We agreed to put the divorce on hold until after the baby was born, maybe try again to make it work."

"I take it you lost the baby in the accident?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Well, I'm off to meet up with some old friends. Would you like to join us for a late lunch?"

"No, I have so much work to do, I really need to get—" I gasped. There was someone in the yard outside the side window. They ducked when I turned around, but there was definitely someone there. I ran towards the French doors, out the back and around to the side. No one was there, but I heard the distinct sound of a motorcycle taking off and had to laugh. I had a distinct feeling I knew who it was.

Over the next ten days I was blissfully left alone to get on with my work. Soil tests were being conducted on Greg's property, which had closed escrow rather quickly since Greg paid in cash, supposedly after a huge win on a big bet at an off-track betting parlor. We had met once after the kissing incident to discuss permits, design and possible contractors, but he had apparently been slammed at work and was called back immediately before we could resolve any real issues.

It was a Friday night; I was in my office working on Greg's house design. Lawrence was in the living room waiting for a call from his friends when there was a knock on the door and then he walked in before I could answer. I could see from my angle down the hall that Lawrence was on his feet, but obviously stunned by what he saw. I turned and saw Greg, standing in the middle of the living room in a tuxedo.

Lawrence was stunned into silence, shocked by the strange intrusion.

Greg looked at Lawrence and then me. "I need a date."

Lawrence shrugged, "Sorry, I have plans."

I snickered. "Greg, what are you doing here?"

"I've been overwhelmed, more patients than usual. I forgot about the big hospital gala tonight and well, I don't want to go alone. My ex will be there with her new old boyfriend."

"New old boyfriend?"

"She was dating him before we went out."

Lawrence looked at me with two eyebrows in the form of question marks. "So you want to show her that you have a date too?"

"Since Lawrence is busy I guess your request is that I accompany you?" I asked.

"That would an affirmative." He said.

"I'm sorry Greg, I'm on a roll, I've almost got the kitchen designed in your house."

Grabbing my arm, he guided me back to the office, closed the door and gave me a very sad look. "Please don't make me beg."

Which, as everyone knows, is a form of begging. I looked at the plans and then back at him. He truly looked miserable. "Why didn't you call me earlier?"

"I got cold feet. I have to go, staff requirement, but I only found out this afternoon that she was bringing Lucas. Please, Darcy?"

"You're in a tux, what am I supposed to wear?"

"You can wear jeans as far as I'm concerned."

"Come on; is it black tie or cocktail?"

"Black tie, but some of the women wear cocktail dresses, some wear formals."

"I better jump in the shower."

House went out to the living room to wait for her, giving Lawrence a strange look. "You look as if you really are going out."

"Just waiting for a call from my friends."

House sat down, leaning forward, his elbows on his legs. I closed the door to my bedroom, but could hear them talking.

"It's going to take a lot more than showing up out of the blue to win a woman like Darcy."

"And you would know because?" Greg asked.

"Because I live here; I'm the one she's been talking to, confiding in. _I know her."_

"Yeah, well I've screwed her, have you?"

I grabbed my robe and stomped out into the living room. "_Get out! Out!" _I pointed to the door.

He lost all color in his face and for once he looked very contrite. "I shouldn't have said that."

"That's right; it's no one's business. Now, just get out. I don't want to see you right now."

He stood up and turned to face me. "I'm sorry. I was just pissed that he seems to think I'm not good enough for you."

Lawrence stood up and looked at his feet. "I did provoke him, Darcy." Looking at Greg, Lawrence apologized. "I'm sorry, doctor. I should have kept my mouth closed. Darcy, I'd hate to think I caused this, please get dressed and go out, enjoy yourself."

I was still pissed. "Maybe I'll go out with you and your friends."

Lawrence laughed. "We're going to_ The Den_ in Somerset. I doubt you'd enjoy yourself."

There was a poignant silence. _The Den _just happened to be the most famous gay club in central Jersey.

At first it didn't register and then Greg broke out in the widest grin. "You're gay?"

Lawrence grinned back. "And you're my type, the rough looking bad boy."

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, the look on his face said it all. Greg felt stupid, ridiculous. He'd been jealous of a gay guy.

"I guess I'll go get that shower now." I turned and went back into the bedroom. By the time I came out thirty minutes later, both men dropped their jaws—the exact expression I was looking for.

I shouldn't have chosen the gown I did, but I figured that if he wanted to show me off, then I'd give them something to look at. It was a gown I had only worn once and had felt self-conscious in it the whole time. The dress was a sleeveless aqua blue with a waistline that was just barely empire. The neckline plunged to the waistline revealing my breasts from the side. It was made out of a silk that hung softly to the floor. I wore gold bangles, gold earrings and gold sandals with four inch heels.

"Darcy, you're absolutely beautiful, stunning." Lawrence said.

Greg said nothing, but he looked uncommonly nervous. I looked at him and said, "Shall we go?"

He nodded.

We got into the old Dodge and started to drive. He finally heaved this horrific sigh, "You should be in a Mercedes or a Jaguar in that dress."

I snickered. "You're feeling guilty over the mode of my transportation?"

"That foo-foo guy was right; you're stunning"

"Thank you."

"Thanks for coming." He said softly.

"You can thank Lawrence."

"Yeah, I'll get on that." He went quiet and then blurted out, "She's going to be so blown away."

"You mean Cuddy?"

"Oh, yeah." He said grinning.

We pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and parked, making out way to the foyer to find on the Board where the gala was. It was in the Jefferson Ballroom. So we took the elevator up and entered the lobby where several couples and groups lingered in tuxes and formalwear. I took a deep breath as Greg opened the door and we entered. The decorations weren't spectacular, but they weren't lame. They were crystals, cut class and silver star-like candelabras hanging down on long silver chains. The lavender lighting along the walls was reflected against white silk curtains that draped down, making the room seem ethereal. It was a little over the top, but not too much.

When we walked in, several people turned to look and I wasn't sure why they were staring. Were they staring at me because they were impressed with my dress or because I was Greg House's date? I wasn't sure, but Greg simply guided me through the crowd to his friend, Dr. Wilson, who was standing almost in the middle of the room talking to a very beautiful woman that I soon recognized as Remy Hadley aka 13. Dressed in a white Grecian dress, she was, by far, the most beautiful woman in the room.

"Darcy Finnegan?" She asked, surprised I think by the fact that I wasn't in a patient's gown.

"Dr. Hadley." I leaned in and kissed her politely on the cheek. "You look absolutely beautiful."

"I was about to say the same about you. You look so much better."

"Thank you."

"Your hair is lovely; it makes you look so young." She said.

My hair was still short, but there were wisps that hung down in the back that flipped up. It had come in surprisingly softer and with more strawberry than before. "Thanks again."

"House, you look dapper."

"Yes, I have a James Bond air about me."

Dr. Wilson looked terribly perplexed. "I thought you were coming stag?"

"I had turned him down before because I thought I'd be out of town on business, but my plans were canceled." I lied.

House raised his eyebrows, "Yeah, whatever she said. Where's Cuddy?"

Chase motioned to the other side of the room. "She's here with Lucas."

"I know, she told me she was bringing him." Greg admitted. "Where's the team table?"

"Here." Chase said, pulling out a chair from the table to our right.

Greg went over and sat down at the table allowing me to take the chair that Chase has offered. Chase sat next to me, Wilson sat next to Greg, Remy was seated on the other side of Chase and the remaining chairs were empty, waiting to be filled by the remaining team members and their dates. I wondered why Dr. Wilson wasn't at the Oncology table, but later I watched as he went over to the tables and spent a good portion of his time talking to his department members. I later found that Wilson had given his own seat at the Oncology table to a nurse's husband because they could not afford the price of the extra ticket. The more I discovered about Wilson, the more I wondered why he was Greg's best friend. They seemed so opposite in nature, but then that made some sense.

I felt a long hand slip over mine and squeeze lightly. I looked up into Greg's blue eyes and found him staring at me as if I were a Renaissance painting. I tried to break his stare, but he was so transfixed, I was unable to get a rise out of him. I finally resorted to leaning towards him and kissing him which ended in him jumping back and almost falling out of his chair.

"I didn't expect that reaction. Am I that repulsive?'

"No, I was just somewhere else." He said apologetically, his face flushed from embarrassment. "Would you care to try that again?"

"I don't think so. I was only doing it to get your attention."

"Darcy, would you like to dance?"

I turned to Chase. "Oh, yes! I'd love to dance." Then I remembered I was Greg's date. "Would you mind if I danced with Chase?"

"No, I'm going for alcohol, do you want something?"

"Champagne?" I said as I slid the chair back and accepted Chase's extended hand as we made our way to the dance floor with a few other couples. _The Safety Dance _was playing, one of my favorites. Chase was so much fun to dance with. He not only had rhythm, he enjoyed dancing and getting wild on the floor. As the song was ending, I was approached by Foreman who also asked if I would dance with him. I did and he was replaced by Taub. Three fast dances and I was ready for a seat. I was about to go back to the table when I felt an arm from behind wrap around my waist and lips touch my neck.

"May I have this dance?" Greg asked.

I listened, not sure if I could handle another fast song. It turned out to be an old Association song, "Never my Love," a slow song. I turned in his arms and apologized. "I'm a little sweaty."

He pretended to smell me. "Mmmm…your perfume and your musk all in a lusty mixture. Sexy." His arms pulled me softly to him as we moved in a rhythm set by Greg and easy to follow.

I maneuvered so that my thigh and hip was pressed next to his groin and thigh, the heat between us exciting and titillating. His cologne smelled like Polo Blue Edition. Underneath it was his smell, the same smell that had stopped me in my tracks and made my heart flip when I changed his bed at my house months ago. His hand slipped down over my ass, I pulled it back up. He slid it back down.

"Are we really going to play this game?"

"You started it. Putting your thigh on my package and grinding it slightly while we dance. What did you think was going to happen?"

He was right. I could feel him getting harder and me getting wetter. "I guess I'm just a tease. We could sit down." I offered.

"No, but if you don't stop brushing with your thigh, you're going to have a wet gooey spot to clean up."

I pulled my thigh back a little and just enjoyed his arms around me. When the song was over we walked to the back of the room and went through the impressive buffet which consisted of one table of seafood, poultry, and beef, another full of pasta, rice and vegetables and a third with a cornucopia of deserts. I wasn't that hungry, so I stuck to some coconut shrimp, a salad and the piese de resistance, sherry trifle which Greg ended up eating most of without asking.

I went to the restroom and on my way back a man stopped me in the lobby. "Excuse me."

I stopped and looked at him. He was good looking with dark gray hair, gray eyes and a nice physique in what was apparently a well-tailored tuxedo.

"Yes?"

"I saw that you were here with House."

"Yes, I am."

He cleared his throat as if what he was about to say was unpleasant. I'm Gordon Day, an Internist at PPTH." He paused and then said abruptly, "You're a beautiful woman."

I blushed and looked around to see if anyone could hear him. It appeared that we were not in earshot of anyone. "Well, thank you." I was about to go, when he leaned in again.

"I was wondering how much you charge?"

I stopped and thought. I usually charged a fixed fee depending on the project and size. Sometimes I did hourly work for smaller projects like remodels. "It depends on what you want."

"Of course, say 24 hours of your time?"

I shrugged. "Well, if it was only twenty-four hours, I could probably do it for $5,000."

He nodded. "That sounds fair. I'll get your number from House and give you a call."

"Great. May I ask how big it is?"

He was taken aback but soon recovered. "I like to think it's a little on the larger side."

"Well, depending on how big it is, we might have to talk about additional fees."

"Oh, well, it's not that big!"

"Okay, just give me a call, Gordon, we can negotiate after I see how big it is." I smiled and left

I walked in, sat down and started a conversation with Remy about Machu Pichu when Greg nudged me.

"Do you have any idea why Gordon keeps looking over here?"

I looked up and saw Gordon standing with two other men. They were all looking over in my direction and talking to each other. "Oh, he has some business for me. Wants me to work on a project for him."

"Really? I thought he bought a new loft last year."

"Maybe he wants me to remodel it. It's not a huge project from what he says."

"Why are the others staring over here?"

"Greg, I'm sitting next to Remy, haven't you noticed? She's extremely hot. They're probably staring at her."

He contemplated that and then he sat back to talk to Foreman who was debating some off license use of a drug. I got up to get champagne.

"Greg, can I get you something to drink?"

"Whiskey?"

"Eric?"

"No, thanks."

I looked over at Remy and she shook her head so I took off towards the bar and was a little surprised to find one of the men who had been staring in our direction directly behind me in line. He was a balding man, a few inches taller than me, with glasses and a thin face with a thin nose. As I waited for the man in front of me to get his drinks I heard a very low whisper behind me.

"I heard that you might provide your services to Gordon."

I turned and nodded. "Yes, maybe. It depends on how big the project is."

"Bigger the better?" He asked.

"Not necessarily. It depends on other things too, like location, amenities, whether we can get past the local government."

"That makes sense. I was thinking maybe we could get together."

"You have need for my services?"

"Yes, but I have to be careful, I have a wife who's very boring. If it's not Mission, she's not into it."

"You know, it's important to have your wife's opinion and agreement before doing this. Mission can be very pleasant if done right. It depends on how ornate or simple you like to keep things. Perhaps I could show her a few things, get her on board."

"Oh, that's not going to happen. I'd have to do this without her."

"That's not really how I work."

"You want me to bring my wife?" He sounded shocked.

"I find it goes smoother if everyone is in the same room and willing to work together."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." I stepped up to the bar and smiled at the bartender. "A champagne and a whiskey, please." The bartender poured the drinks; I put $5 in the tip jar and turned. The man was looking at my breasts.

"Wow, you make it very tempting. I'll talk to her, but I don't think she'll go for it."

"If she doesn't approve, then you're just asking for trouble."

"Yeah, well, do you have a card?"

"Not on me, but Greg has my information."

He nodded. "Thank you."

When I got back to the table, Greg asked me what I was talking to Chris about.

"The bald guy? He was just asking me about work. It looks like all I have to do is attend doctors' functions and I'd get a ton of work."

"Chris needs an architect?"

"Yes, I guess he's upset because his wife only likes Mission and he wants something else. I've worked with couples like this before. The wife likes Mission, the husband likes Contemporary. Of course, I prefer Mission to contemporary, but that's me."

Greg spewed out the whiskey he had just sipped and started coughing and laughing at the same time.

"Greg?"

"Sorry, sorry." He said, still choking on the whiskey going down the wrong pipe. "Tell me what they said."

I tried to remember the conversations verbatim. By the time I was done, Greg, Chase, Remy and Foreman were all laughing. Greg was actually crying, he was laughing so hard.

"What the hell is so funny?" I asked.

"The services they want aren't architectural, unless you're talking about an erection of sorts."

I must have looked puzzled because he finally came out with it.

"They think you're a hooker."

"_What?"_

"Think back on the conversation, their body language, what they said."

I did think about it and realized he could be right. "But why would they think, out of all the women here, that I was a hooker?"

Everyone around the table looked at Greg.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Oh, I see. Because I'm with you and you hire hookers."

Remy nodded. "House usually brings a call girl to these things if he doesn't come stag."

I turned the brightest red, which elicited more laughter. "I don't think it's funny."

House leaned in and said, "Well, you should be grateful. If architectural clients ever dry up, you're sitting on other resources that you can rely on."

I pursed my lips and shook my head. "I really would like to leave now."

"Before we leave, I want to show you off to Cuddy and Lucas."

Wilson rolled his eyes and sighed. "Why don't you let it go?"

"I just want to rub her nose into it a little."

"Oh, Greg, just take me home."

"Fine."

We both got up and as we left, I felt his hand grab mine tightly and pull me towards the other side of the room in the direction of Lisa Cuddy and her date. I tried to pull back, but he refused to let go, holding onto me like a vice grip.

"No, Greg, no. I don't want to be paraded around like a prized horse."

"You're a cute little filly, but I really need your cooperation here. Help a guy out. I really need this." He said with such pathetic humbleness and humiliation, that I felt my whole body cave and I followed.

In fact, I did more than follow, I put on a show, slipping my arm around his waist which educed a heartfelt smile from his lips. "Let's do this," I said.

We first walked up to a couple behind the target couple and began to talk as a method of not looking too obvious. But I wanted to go home so I pretended to just notice Lisa Cuddy who was talking to two other couples. Her date was standing close to her.

"Dr. Cuddy? Is that you?"

She turned and I could see that the union of my body to House had its effect. It was a subtle collapse of her face followed by a bright plastic smile. "Darcy Finnegan!" She said with enthusiasm and then she turned and with much less enthusiasm said, "Hello, House."

"Cuddy, Lucas." Greg said with a nod of hello.

"I didn't recognize you; you look so beautiful in that dress." I wasn't lying, Lisa was stunning. Her hair was up and her dress was a one-shoulder emerald satin that went beautifully with her hair and eyes. I noticed her boyfriend was looking at my breasts. Greg saw him too.

"Hey, Lucas, take a picture, it'll last longer."

The young man shook his head and stood up straight, sneaking a peak at his date who was not very pleased with his actions. I tugged on Greg even more, not for show, but because I did feel a little violated and he made me feel safe.

"Sorry, but that dress is a killer." He blurted out and then back-tracked. "I mean, it's a nice color."

House kissed the side of my head as he gave me a little hug. "How have you been?" House asked Lucas.

"Great, great. I'm really doing well…now." He nodded towards Lisa, indicating he was happy to be with her again.

"Yeah, well just don't screw it up like I did." Greg said as he gave me another kiss on the top of my head.

Lucas smiled. "You look like you're picking up the pieces just fine."

Greg looked into my eyes and with what was either genuine affection or the best acting I've seen in a long time, nodded and said, "I can't complain."

Lisa swallowed hard, gave us all a look of discomfort and hooked her arm through her date.

"Greg, come on. Let's get home."

Greg rolled his eyes and said out of the corner of his mouth to Lisa and Lucas, "Insatiable. I've had to stock up on little blue pills."

I said nothing, but it was hard for me to hide my distaste. I pulled on his arm and he finally yielded.

"Goodnight." I said as we started towards the door.

Once in the lobby, I dropped my arm from his. He picked it back up; I pulled it out in a tug of war.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I did what you asked. There's no need to keep up appearances out here."

"Darcy, I'd like to take you out again." He said as we reached the parking lot.

"Yes, I know. But after tonight, I'm not sure about it. I don't like people thinking I'm a prostitute. I have a business that depends on my reputation."

He looked disappointed. "You should be grateful; I only hire the most beautiful hookers around." Opening the door of the Dodge, he waited for me to climb him, pulling my dress in with me.

I waited for him to climb in the car before I responded, "Well, perhaps you should date them."

There was a definite burst to his bubble, he suddenly turned desperate. "Darcy, we enjoy each other's company, don't push me away. At least give us a chance before you do anything."

"Greg, I won't deny that there's a certain masochistic attraction to you. I know I should push you away, but I keep giving you chances, playing your game, letting you get close to me. I don't know what's gotten into me, as much as I know you're bad news, I keep making excuses for your behavior and allow myself to be sucked into your game. But it has to stop. I can't fall for you, we're wrong for each other."

"So you are falling for me?" He said with some excitement in his voice.

I looked away from him and admitted, "Maybe, maybe a little."

"I'll take that." He pulled up the drive way to my garage and stopped.

"I need time to think about this. I might be falling for you, but part of me is screaming that I'm an idiot." I got out of the car and started for the front door, hoping that he wouldn't follow me. I found the key in my miniscule purse, opened the door and walked slowly from the front door to my kitchen in the dark as I had hundreds of times before. Completely absorbed in my own thoughts, I did not realize that I was stepping on a set of plans that I had been working on in my back office that afternoon. I went to the west wall of the kitchen next to the hall to flip on the light just as an arm went around my waist.

"Greg, no!" I managed to reach out and flip the switch as he pulled me up and then throwing me hard onto the wood floor, my body landing with a hard thud and confusion rushing through my head. _What is he doing? _ I looked up and saw a man in a black ski mask, a gun in his hand, standing with his legs straddling mine. Another man stood across the room, he had on a multi-colored ski mask and was slightly taller than the muscular man who's arms rippled through his thin black t-shirt that matched his black ski mask. The black ski-masked guy placed one hand on his belt as the other hand was putting a gun down on the kitchen counter.

"What are you doing?" The colorful ski mask asked. His voice was nervous, his hand shaking as he held his own, smaller gun in his hand.

"Keep your gun on her. I'm going to have a taste of that." He said, referring to me as I laid prone on the ground and in shock. He continued to take his black belt off of his black jeans, the beady eyes fixed on my body.


	23. Chapter 23

**CAUTION-VERY, VERY ADULT AND VIOLENT THEMES IN THIS CHAPTER. **

**Chapter 23**

**Helpless **

"We should leave." The other guy in the colorful ski mask said, his voice wavering with fear, his body tense as he rocked on the balls of his feet.

"Relax, she's in the middle of a forest, no one's going to hear her or see the lights. When I'm done, you can have a turn."

I started to crawl on my back and elbows away from him, but he reached down and grabbed my ankle, pulling me back under his legs. I looked past him at the door and felt sick when I saw it open, a sober Greg standing in the doorway.

"Darcy, I can't—" Greg stopped, his cane supporting his weight as he tried to comprehend what was happening.

There was a quick hustle and the black ski mask guy had his gun back in his hand as he crossed the floor to the front door. Greg held up his cane, but the intruder was too fast and with one swift move he swung back with the butt of the gun, hitting Greg across the temple, the sound of bone cracking filling the room and making me sick to my stomach. The blow dropped him to his knees and then onto the floor. Blood was flowing from a huge gash in his head. Showing no mercy, the guy put the gun to the back of Greg's head as I tried to crawl to put myself between Greg and the gun.

"Don't! Don't hurt him, please!" I said, putting my hand on the back of Greg's head between the muzzle of the gun and his hair as if this could prevent a bullet from entering his brain. I tried to cover him further with my body, but it only made my captor laugh at me. Greg finally opened his eyes but I could tell that he was having a difficult time focusing.

The black ski mask man told the colored one to get something to tie Greg with. He found an electrical cord in the utility drawer and, after pushing me off of Greg, hog tied Greg's long limbs while the black ski masked man kept his gun trained on both of us. I was next; they tied my hands in front of my body with a cord they yanked from a lamp. The colored ski mask man went to my bedroom and brought back another lamp cord, tying my ankles together.

After I was tied, the black ski mask kicked Greg hard in his stomach, causing the most painful of sounds to come out of Greg's mouth. My stomach rolled and I thought I would pass out from fear. The man was laughing almost maniacally as Greg moaned, his face crumbled in excruciating anguish.

"Do you like your wife here? You let her dress like this—her breasts hanging out like that?" The black ski mask taunted Greg. Bending down, the barbarian took the barrel of his gun and pushed my strap down and exposing my breast.

"Don't." Greg managed to get out although his breath was stilted from the pain in his ribs. "Take whatever you want and leave."

"Oh, don't worry, we plan to, our van is full. But first, we want a little taste of this piece of ass."

"You're the ass." Greg said belligerently.

I cringed when he said it, knowing it would only elicit an assault. The man's boot swung back again, this time aiming at Greg's bad thigh. The scream from Greg when he connected made me so nauseated that I thought I'd vomit on the floor.

I screamed out, "Stop! Stop!" Everyone turned to me. I tried to look sultry although I'm sure the fear was still deep in my eyes. I calmed my voice as best as I could. "I'll show you a good time, just don't hurt him again. That's what you want, right? We can go in my bedroom and I'll make sure you're happy."

The man snickered and turned to Greg, "Oh, so the little wifey is willing to take one for the team?"

"Darcy, no!" Greg yelled although it came out stilted.

"He's going to do it anyway." I said gently to Greg and then turned back to the man.

The man shrugged and then nodded, "I promise not to hurt him again, but we're not going anywhere. He's going to watch."

"No. I won't do it here. We have to go to my bedroom." I kept thinking I might be able to find a weapon if I were able to get him into bed leaving the other guy to watch Greg with the gun.

"Sorry, sweetie, but I think your hubby wants to watch. Right old man? Hey, how did an old man like you get a hot mama like her?" He pulled me by the hair and pushed my face next to Greg's.

Greg took a deep breath and offered, "If you promise not to touch her, I'll go to my ATM and take all the money I can out of my account and give it to you."

"What, and miss tapping this ass for two, maybe three, hundred from an ATM? Sorry, dude, but we have enough crap in our van to feed us for a year. Besides, I really want some of that." He turned to the colored ski mask and yelled, "Hey…get some tape and put it over his mouth. I don't want to listen to him while I take my turn with her."

They found some postal tape and taped around Greg's head and then, having insured that Greg was completely incapacitated, they turned their attention to me. They taped my mouth too, making it difficult for me to breathe. I had been sitting the whole time with my breast exposed, unable to push the strap up despite rubbing my shoulder against the chair. Black ski mask guy took a knife out of the kitchen drawer and started cutting the dress from my body. I could smell his foul breath. His sweat smelled of beer and poor hygiene. He nicked me several times, laughing when he did. Within a minute I was lying on the floor in just my panties and thigh high nylons praying that this would end, that someone would rescue us. But I could conceive of no scenario where we could be rescued. I lived in an isolated house and Lawrence wouldn't get home from the clubs for hours. In fact, if he got "lucky," he might not come back until sometime tomorrow.

Greg tried to pull on his cord to get loose but it had the opposite effect, the knots seemed to tighten. His eyes said it all; he was in anguish, helpless, unable to protect me. I saw guilt written on his face as he realized his efforts to free himself were only making things worse.

At first I turned away from him and the pain in Greg's eyes. I looked up at the ceiling as I felt the dull side of the blade next to my skin as the knife cut away my panties. The black ski masked man stood up, admired his handiwork as he undid his pants, revealing an average circumcised cock. He pulled my ankles towards him and I thought for sure he would bend my knees out to get access, but shock ran through me as he rolled me over instead. The horror of what this meant shot through my body causing my stomach to turn and food start to bubble up my esophagus. I didn't dare vomit or I'd probably aspirate with the tape around my mouth. He grabbed the back of my head by the hair and slammed my face down and then grabbed my chin, turning my face to look at Greg. I felt his hands on the cheeks of my ass and I screamed into the tape, the sound coming out in a high pitch muffled sound. Wriggling, I was trying to keep him from finding his mark, but he pressed his weight into me and then stabbed so hard I almost passed out from the pain which shot up my spine like a white poker.

"Oh, God, she's tight. Ewww, honey, is this your first time from the back?" He laughed and continued, pulling me up a little and plowing again.

I opened my eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks and looked into Greg's eyes. He was staring at me, privately sending me love and affection, trying to let me know he cared, that he wished it was him they were hurting. He widened his eyes to let me know he wanted me to concentrate on him, not what was happening. I tried. I looked at him and thought about all the times he made me laugh, how I wish I hadn't been so mean to him earlier in the evening. He was still bleeding from the wound in his temple which had also caused widespread bruising, the purple spreading down around his eye socket.

At first I heard the grunting from the pig behind me and then something inside me went cold and then numb. I was unable to hear or feel anything except the warmth in Greg's eyes. After a few minutes, the man riding me, moaned several times and then the sharp pain stopped, but the throbbing continued as he pulled out and callously offered me up to his friend. The friend was reluctant at first, but after some cajoling from the black ski masked man, he turned me over and, after slipping his jeans down to his ankles and producing a enthusiastic hard on, started to ride me missionary style, my legs flopped out in a forty-five degree angle. He was gentler, but the fact that I could see him, his green eyes with brown flecks boring down through the rainbow ski mask, seemed more intimate and even more an invasion of my life. I couldn't see Greg, so in an effort to keep my mind from feeling the horror that was welling up, I tried to memorize anything I could about the man who was raping me. I could see three moles that formed a triangle on his neck where the ski mask fell short. The hands on my breasts were tanned and he had a black onyx school ring on his hand with 2003 on one side of it. I looked at his friend, now sitting on the coffee table watching us, the gun still in his hand. I saw part of a tattoo on the back of his hand peeking out from sleeve of his long sleeved black t-shirt. It looked like half of a star…a silver star.

After he finished raping me, he fumbled with his pants, pulling them up in a hurry while the black ski masked friend wandered down the hall into the bathroom. He came back with a brown bottle in his hand and started to rummage through my kitchen drawers, eventually producing a turkey baster. I wasn't sure what he was going to do, but I knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. As his friend finished buckling his belt, the black ski masked man used the baster to take liquid out of the brown bottle which I now realized as my bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide. Greg shook his head and moaned in an effort to stop them, but it was futile.

"What's ya doin'?" The colorful ski masked guy asked.

"DNA baby…we need to destroy the DNA…we didn't use rubbers."

After sticking the baster first in my vagina and squirting the yellow bulb at the top, I felt the liquid rush to fill my cavity. He waited a few seconds and then twisted my legs, causing me to turn on my stomach. He did the same behind me; the pain of the baster being shoved inside was enhanced by the scraping and bruising his violation had caused earlier. They laughed when the peroxide started to foam from both orifices. The stinging from the cuts and abrasions was hard to endure; I cried again, but I didn't vomit. Greg shut his eyes; it was finally too much for him to bear.

The masked duo talked about taking another turn with me, but decided against it since I now had Peroxide inside of me and they thought it might hurt their penises. After a few minutes, they grabbed the rest of the goods they were stealing and as quickly as they had grabbed me when I came home, they were gone.

Greg could do nothing; he was in tremendous pain from the concussion, the broken ribs and the damage to his right thigh. I scooted towards my purse which was on the floor, the contents having spilled out in the masked man's effort to get my money and credit cards. They had taken my wallet, but not my phone. I turned around and grabbed the iPhone with my bound hands, touching the little round indentation on the bottom to start it. I couldn't see what I was doing so I crawled with my back to Greg so he could view the screen. I knew the phone app was at the bottom of the screen. When I finally hit it, he let out sounds and nodded. I managed to press the keypad button and once again got an affirmative from Greg. I kept fumbling around the keyboard until he nodded; pushing what I assumed was the 9. I did it again and pushed 1 and then another 1 when he nodded approvingly.

Unable to say anything, we had to simply leave the line open and make muffled sounds to the 911 operator who eventually sounded frustrated when her attempts to elicit information from us were futile. Finally, she indicated that she was sending officers to the address of the owner of the phone and to leave the phone on until they arrived.

Thinking it was probably kids playing a prank with the operator; it was a full thirty minutes before police arrived. After knocking, they finally looked through the window and saw me lying on the floor, nude, Greg bloody and my house ransacked. They walked through the unlocked door and started to reassure us that that the paramedics were on their way, but now that I had done what I could to save Greg, I could feel my entire brain dull. One of the officers, a young kid who looked like he should still be in high school, took a long look at me as the other officer, an older black man with a kind smile, found a sheet and covered me.

"Jackson, get a knife and cut them loose." The black officer barked at the lecherous young one. The officer pulled the tape off of my mouth and assured me I would be okay, but we both knew he was lying. I'd never be the same. I looked down at my body and saw the red bruising which would soon turn black and blue.

As soon as the tape was removed from Greg's mouth he took a deep breath and tried to tell me he was sorry, but he was cringing from the pain so his words came out haltingly.

"Darcy…I…I am so…sorry."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to have to ask, but were you raped?" The black officer asked.

I nodded, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. "Raped and sodomized." I said it as detached from emotion as I could.

"Your name?"

We answered some of the questions as they untied us. Lying on the ground, warned not to move, Greg kept looking at me and shaking his head in disbelief. I crawled over and kissed him lightly on his lips before lying down next to him. The officer put up a hand.

"Ma'am, don't touch him…we don't want to risk any of his bodily fluids or hairs getting on you, confusing the investigation."

"It's too later, Sergeant , but Greg and I have already kissed and been around each other tonight. They'll just have to eliminate his DNA."

The sergeant left to talk to his backup.

"Darcy, I'm so sorry." Greg said again.

"There was nothing you could do."

He kept shaking his head. "I let you down."

"No, you didn't. I don't want to talk about it right now, please? I just want to be near you."

The older officer came back inside indicating that he had instructed the younger one to do a thorough search of the grounds. After asking some questions, Greg started rattling off to the officer that the crooks must have parked their vehicle behind the garage because we didn't see it from the drive. There was a parking pad behind the garage for vehicles. I sometimes stored fixtures for use in my client's homes and the trucks often parked on the back pad while they unloaded them. Continuing, Greg rattled off all kinds of information about the two attackers including the actual model of the Nike sneaker the colored mask wore, the color of their hair from the hair on their arms, their moles, their height, age from their agility, voice and references. He was amazing. I steeled myself and gave them the information I had and then I was transported to PPTH for my rape examination. Greg was transported to PPTH for his injuries too. We shared the ambulance, me sitting next to the EMT holding Greg's hand as he laid on the gurney. We didn't say anything. What was there to say?

No fluid DNA was found, they had destroyed it with the douche. However there were some pubic hairs found on me that would take a few weeks to be analyzed. The hydrogen peroxide was neutralized with a baking soda douche I was given by the nurse treating me. She gave me an ointment to rub into my anus to aid healing. I was also given prophylactic antibiotics and antivirals for STDs and HIV. Dr. Cuddy showed up in the examination room when it was over and gave me a set of surgical scrubs to wear.

"They paged me at the gala. I'm so sorry, I don't know—"

"Greg, how's Greg?" I interrupted.

"He's been sutured, we're getting an MRI of his leg and we bandaged the ribs, which didn't puncture his lungs. He's pretty banged up."

"His brain….uh, did he suffer any brain trauma like I did after my accident?"

"He has a concussion, but it doesn't appear to be serious, there's no brain swelling. We're going to send him home, but we do have a problem."

I froze. "What?"

"We discovered that his liver enzymes are elevated. He has to stay off alcohol for at least six months, hopefully longer to give his liver a rest. Now I'm not supposed to tell you this, it's confidential, but he needs help and he might just stop drinking for you if you asked."

"I doubt Greg does anything for anyone unless he wants to."

"Normally, I'd agree, but maybe you're the answer. I hope so. Now, back to you. I've arranged for our rape crisis counselor to talk to you."

"That won't be necessary." I said. "I'm okay." The truth was that I was numb, dazed, a zombie. I couldn't feel anything.


	24. Chapter 24

**I know that the last chapter was hard and brutal-but a necessary event as you'll see.**

**Chapter 24**

**Loss of Feeling**

Everyone could tell that by refusing to feel the horror of the event, she was slowly slipping into the abyss. Her work had ground to a halt, her contacts with the outside world were minimized, her world started to close in around her. Two months and they hadn't caught the men. They had some leads, some of the electronics had shown up in Trenton pawn shops, but they still weren't ready to arrest anyone.

After leaving the hospital, House had called several times in the first week, but hadn't actually dropped by her house to see her. She sounded completely out of it, almost drugged. He offered to come over, but she always had an excuse and he was always relieved when she said no. The guilt he felt every time he was reminded of that night overwhelmed him to the point where he began to drink again, despite the elevated liver enzymes. He needed to forget as much as she did.

Ten weeks had passed and summer was in full swing. The fireflies lit the summer nights in the tall grass that graced the floor of the woods behind Darcy's home as well as the half acre of manicured lawn that surrounded the entire house. Cicadas sang their song, the sound traveling from east to west and then the round robin of their song would start again. The heat was stifling, the worst in years, but most people chose to stay inside in the air conditioning. Darcy hardly noticed, she hadn't been out in several weeks. When she had stepped outside, her heart started to race and she felt light headed as if she were in a fog.

A knock on the door was ignored by Darcy, but not by her assistant, Jenny, who was trying desperately to keep Darcy's business from spiraling into the ground. Most of the projects were well into the building stage except for House's. The plans were not finished nor were the final sketches approved. But House hadn't called or seemed interested even when Jenny did call and ask him to look at the sketches. Jenny was a junior architect and had worked with Darcy for several years. She knew the drill and had, through smoke and mirrors, kept things going since the 'incident.' But each day change orders piled up, the various governmental entities asked for changes, permits needed to be signed off and it wasn't getting done.

At first Darcy had tried to keep going, but within a week, she was excusing herself to go lie down and by the second week, she was barely getting out of bed. Now, she didn't even bother to say hello to Jenny when she showed up for work in the mornings. Darcy was ensconced in her darkened bedroom where she would lie for hours looking up at nothing, feeling nothing, doing nothing. The only time she moved was to go to the bathroom.

Jenny was worried; her attempts to get Darcy to eat were only successful half the time and Darcy could see from the sunken cheeks and bony hands that the weight was falling off Darcy despite her lack of exercise. There was no one to call. Lawrence had left a few days after the incident, having received an invitation from a man he met to move in with him. He apologized but said he couldn't handle the pain in Darcy's eyes and the looks she gave him when he approached her—the fear she had because he was a man.

Answering the door late one afternoon, Jenny was surprised to find a clean cut man, approximately forty standing in the doorway. He was dressed in a suit and tie, brown loafers with a collegiate tassel and the most gorgeous brown eyes she'd seen in years. When those eyes looked at her, she immediately trusted him.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Wilson. I was wondering if Darcy was home?"

"Doctor? A medical doctor?" Jenny asked eagerly

"Yessss," he said suspiciously.

"Thank God, please come in."

He walked in with some trepidation. He knew the sound in her voice, the relief that a doctor was present to handle some event, even if it wasn't medical. People somehow believed that medical doctors could solve all problems—health, financial, emotional.

"Dr. Wilson, Darcy isn't getting out of bed. She's not eating and she's wasting away. The only time she gets up is to go to the bathroom…and on occasion she hasn't even done that."

"She's wetting the bed?"

"A couple of times when she has her nightmares."

"Where is she?"

"In here."

He followed Jenny into the bedroom and had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the dark. The smell was dank, as if the bedding hadn't been changed for weeks. Wilson went to a table and tried to turn on a lamp only to find that the cord was missing. Taken aback, he went to the other side and turned on a lamp and looked down as Darcy covered her head with the blanket.

"Darcy, it's James, James Wilson. House's friend?" He said, asking if she remembered him.

A muffled voice spoke out, "Please go."

"Darcy, your assistant is worried about you and from what she says, she has reason to be. I need to examine you."

"Just go away."

"I'm sorry, I can't. If you send me away, I'm calling social services and it's very possible that they may commit you for a 72 hour hold, to determine if you need psychiatric treatment. Now, are you going to let me examine you?"

There was silence. Jenny exchanged furtive glances with Wilson, worried she'd say no. But, she finally pulled down the blanket, causing Wilson to do an internal gasp. He handed a key to Jenny. "Please go out to the trunk of my car and get my black doctor's bag." Jenny grabbed the key and left at a fast clip.

Wilson walked around the bed to the side that Darcy was lying on. He was having trouble seeing so he went to the curtain and pulled it back. It was worse than he thought. Her hair was disheveled and matted, her eyes unfocused, her lips cracked from dehydration. The beautiful woman he had drooled over at the gala just a few months ago was gone and in her place was a skeleton who couldn't take the sunlight coming into the room, her hand over her eyes to protect them.

Jenny came into the room carrying the bag and let out a little scream when she saw Darcy. "Oh my God! I didn't realize just how bad it was! Oh, Darcy."

Wilson faced Jenny and said gently, "You did the right thing. What's your name?"

"Jenny, Jenny Nelson, her assistant."

"Okay, Jenny, now I need you to stay here while I conduct the examination just in case it becomes uncomfortable for Darcy to have…" he lowered his voice and whispered into Jenny's ear, "A man touch her."

Jenny nodded, acknowledging that she understood.

Wilson approached Darcy cautiously. "Darcy, I'm going to have to pull the cover off and ask you to sit up so I can check your lungs and other vitals, okay?"

"Do I have to take the covers off?" She asked her voice weak and crackling. Her hand went up to shade her eyes so she could look at him.

"Yes, I need to check your reflexes."

Taking a deep breath, she slowly slipped the cover off, revealing a cotton gown soaked in blood.

"Jenny, call an ambulance." Wilson barked.

"No!" Darcy screamed, causing both Wilson and Jenny to recoil. She looked down and said quietly, her eyes averted, "It's menstrual blood."

Wilson cringed; she hadn't even bothered to clean herself up. "Jenny, could you please run a bath for Darcy?"

Jenny, her arms across her chest, corners of her mouth down, exited into the master bathroom. Wilson heard the bathwater start to fill the tub. He approached Darcy again.

"We're going to get you cleaned up and then I'll conduct the exam, okay?"

She didn't argue, she simply stated matter of fact, "I don't think I have the energy to make it to the bathroom."

Wilson nodded. "Don't worry, I'll help you. I'm going to put an arm around you and help lift you up,okay?" He knew he needed to prepare her for every time he touched her, this was standard procedure for a rape victim. It gave them an opportunity to process the movements and it also implied that they could say no. Wilson slipped an arm around her back, discovering that her spine was unnaturally prominent and her shoulders had no meat on them. He more or less carried her into the bathroom when her legs began to buckle. Sitting her on the lid of the toilet, she looked even more emaciated under the bright light of the bathroom. She was unable to open her eyes because of the lights.

"Do you want Jenny to help you take your gown off and get you into the tub?"

"Dr. Wilson, I don't think I can. Could you stay and help?" Jenny said plaintively.

Wilson had wanted Jenny to disrobe Darcy because of the rape. "Darcy, would you mind if I help with your clothes and then helped you into the tub?"

Darcy was an automaton, unable to feel any emotion at this point. She gave a curt nod and lifted her arms. Wilson helped Jenny as they removed her gown and then he helped her stand up. That's when he saw it, a small ulcer on the side of her buttock from being bedridden. It looked infected to Wilson, so he quickly checked her head. She had a slight fever.

Wilson got her into the tub and then asked Jenny to help wash her while he wrote a prescription. Wilson wrote a prescription for an antibacterial ointment and Erythromycin. He handed it to Jenny. "Can you go fill this?" He reached into his pants and pulled out his Calvin Klein wallet, pulling a hundred dollar bill out and handing it to Jenny.

Once alone, Wilson took out the stethoscope and began to listen to her heart and take Darcy's blood pressure. Her heart wasn't strong, but it wasn't weak either, but her blood pressure was abnormally high from a lack of potassium and other nutrients. He looked down, doing cursory search of her body for any more sores and found none.

"Darcy, are you still on your period?"

She shook her head. "It only lasted a few days."

The fact that she had a short period didn't surprise him. Because of her weight loss, he was surprised she even had a period. "I think you need to go to the hospital so that we can stabilize you."

Darcy shook her head. "No more hospitals."

Wilson shook his head to himself. He understood why she had an aversion to hospitals, she'd been in them several times over the last six months, but he needed her watched, to make sure she was getting the nutrients and hydrations her body needed. "Okay, but you're going with me."

"Where to?"

"Where you can get the help you need."

"I want to stay here."

"No, that's not an option." He said. Wilson helped her into a clean track suit and accompanied her out to the couch so that the bed could be changed.

When Jenny returned, Wilson took the ointment and applied it to the bedsore and then gave her the antibiotics to take with a glass of water. Jenny went into the bedroom and stripped the bed. When she came out, Wilson turned and asked, "Jenny, would you pack her a bag of clothes and toiletries?"

"She's going away?"

"Just across town, close by."

Jenny nodded and started packing underwear, a night gown and then comfortable pants and shirts. After emptying some toiletries along with a new toothbrush into a vanity bag, she informed Wilson she was done and handed him a bag.

"Dr. Wilson, I have to run these plans to the permit office before they close, will Darcy be okay?"

"Do you have her cell phone?"

Jenny retrieved it along with Darcy's handbag as Wilson assisted Darcy to the door. "We're going now. I'll use her cell to call you and give you the address where's she staying, okay?"

"Fine." Jenny said with urgency and then she stopped and gave Darcy a look of concern. "Is she going to be alright?"

Wilson shrugged. "I don't know. She's very depressed. Let's hope."

"I read the police report. What they did to her…I can understand why she's so bad off, but I'm really worried. You must have been worried too because you came by to check up on her."

"I was actually coming to see if she could help me, well not me, my friend."

"I don't think she could help anyone."

Wilson smiled gently. "Oh, I don't know. She just might."

Driving through Princeton, Darcy had crawled into the back seat to lay down, pulling her knees up to her chest. Wilson worried about her fragility and whether it was wise taking her away from her home. But she needed to be watched and her needs might be the only needs that would supersede House's own inner demons.

As he pulled up in front of House's apartment, he paused, not sure that this was the right thing to do. But something inside of him knew that House would not turn his back on Darcy. For months, Wilson had suspected that he had fallen for her. The fact that he fell apart after the assault just confirmed how much he cared about her. If he hadn't cared, he would have shaken it off, but he was drinking, despite the elevated liver enzymes. If he didn't stop soon, his liver would never recover and he'd either have to find a liver transplant (unlikely that he'd get an anonymous donor liver because of his Vicodin/alcohol abuse) or he'd die.

Wilson took the large bag and handbag into the foyer of the apartment building and then went out into the late summer night to help Darcy, who had fallen asleep, out of the back seat and into the building.

"Greg's apartment?" She asked, obviously befuddled.

"Yes, he's going to take care of you for a few days and you're going to stop him from drinking. His liver is shot and if he doesn't slow down the alcohol abuse, he'll be dead in a year."

By the blank look on her face, she didn't seem to register what he had said. At the front door, she almost collapsed, but Wilson managed to catch her. The door opened to a very perplexed House staring at them.

"What the—"

But Wilson didn't wait, he pushed Darcy quickly past House, grabbing the bags as he did. As fast as he was in the apartment, he was back out with House running behind him.

"Hey! Hey! What the hell is all this about?" House yelled as Wilson scurried to his car.

"She's got a bedsore so I put her on antibiotics. Her hair is falling out. She's not eating and almost catatonic—take care of her."

"_What?"_

"Look, you can drink your guilt away or do something positive—your choice. Either way, she's your responsibility now." Wilson closed the door and immediately locked it as he started the car.

House started pounding on the window. "No! No! No!"

But Wilson gave him the 'crazed-man' look and waved as he pulled out from the curb and burned rubber down the road with House taking a few steps towards the car and then stopping, completely bewildered and confused. Standing in the gutter watching Wilson's car turn left and then out of sight, House tried desperately to form a plan, but a plan for what?


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

**Split Personality**

He walked slowly back to the apartment, opening the door and looking for Darcy. She wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. Making his way back to the bedroom, House could feel his heart thumping so hard he stopped to calm himself. He hadn't seen her since that night at the hospital, the stitches in his head, the taped ribs, the pain, the guilt. He _couldn't_ see her. She had tried to see him, but he made the nurses tell her that he wasn't allowed visitors because his blood count was too low, making him too susceptible to infection. And now she was here and from what little he saw of her during her dramatic entrance, she wasn't in good shape. If she had a bedsore, then it was highly likely that she was spending most of her time prone…and that couldn't be good.

House took a deep breath and turned into the bedroom, turning the overhead light on. In the middle of the bed was a small lump completely rolled up into a tight ball. He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached a shy hand over to touch her arm. She flinched and pulled in tighter.

"Darcy." His voice was gentle, as loving as he could make it. "Do you need anything?"

"No." She barked and then she thought for a moment. House turned to leave. "Greg?"

He stopped and looked back. "Yeah?"

"Wilson said you needed to stop drinking."

"Well, not tonight. I need to think."

She nodded and put her head back on the pillow, closing her eyes and the world out.

House went back out to the living room and poured a double in a well glass and took a seat to contemplate the recent events. At least she was talking and that was a plus. The fact that she asked about him was also a good sign. Lifting the glass to his lips, House hesitated. The whites of his eyes were turning a creamy color—not good. The taste of the whiskey was something he craved not for its oakiness, but because it meant that soon all the feelings swirling inside of him would be blunted down and he could tolerate himself and the guilt. House put the glass down, still full, and sat back. It was six in the evening and he was hungry. The chicken fingers, fries and shake he had ordered were going to be delivered soon (he hoped.) In the meantime, House went over to her bags and looked through the toiletry bag. It contained some medicine along with her toothbrush and other things. He pulled the medicine out and put it on the coffee table. When the doorbell rang he jumped, shaken from his worry about her health. Grabbing his wallet and cane, he made his way to the door, collected the food from the young college girl with acne, gave her a generous tip and then dished the food out in the kitchen.

The plate was piled with fries and chicken strips that had been fried in a beer batter. He made his way back to the bedroom with some paper towels and flipped on the light. She shuddered like a roach when the light went on.

"Alright, time to eat."

"I'm not hungry," she managed to eek out.

"Tough. You're eating or I'm taking you to the hospital and putting you on an I.V."

"Does every doctor threaten to hospitalize someone if they don't do their bidding?" Darcy moaned from under the taupe Pima cotton sheet she had pulled up over her head.

"You're going to have to sit up."

"No, I'm not."

House put the food down on the dresser and yanked the bed linens off of her body and let them fall to the floor. She turned her face, eyebrows up, her glassy eyes fixed on him. She scrambled to find the sheet, but it was on the floor.

"Why are you doing this?" she said, her voice shaking.

"Because you look like an Auschwitz survivor." He said as he held up a piece of chicken strips. "Get this down your beak."

They looked at each other, neither pleased with the other's actions. To House it felt like a Mexican standoff, but finally Darcy blinked and opened her mouth. House let a slight smile of satisfaction cross his lips as he delicately placed the chicken strip on her tongue.

Chewing for what seemed an hour, House watched as she slowly swallowed the first piece. He had consumed three pieces and a handful of fries in the meantime. Offering up several French fries tipped with ketchup, Darcy sighed, but took them from him.

"I'm not going to sit here all night feeding you like a baby. You're going to have to take this plate and feed yourself."

"I don't really feel like eating." She said, giving him sad sappy eyes.

He narrowed his eyes. "Not going to work…you're going to eat." His voice carried the authority of someone who wouldn't take no for an answer.

Darcy took the plate reluctantly and started to eat. "This isn't very nutritious."

"You need some calories…we'll work on nutrition tomorrow. What the hell happened to you?"

She gave him a dirty look. "Jesus, Greg, you know what happened to me. _You know what happened to me."_

"Yeah, well you know what they say…you don't eat and you let the rapists win."

"Not funny."

He wilted back, knowing too well that it wasn't funny; it didn't even feel right when he said it. "I'm going to go get you some water and I want you to drink it."

"Yes, master."

He watched as she finished the two additional pieces of chicken and another handful of fries along with the large glass of water. When she was done she let out a belch.

"Oh, my God!" She was bright red. "I don't know where that came from."

House was chuckling. "You little piglet!"

She smiled. "What am I doing here?"

"I'm not sure. Wilson seems to think that I'm responsible for making you well."

She said nothing. Handing him the plate, Darcy rose and went to the living room with House following behind, wondering where she was going. Sitting at the piano, she started to play Rachmaninoff—beautifully. House's mouth dropped as he watched her from the middle of the room.

"I didn't know you could play."

"I told you that I could play better than you."

House felt his heart skip and his hands get clammy. Walking up to the piano he whispered, "Annie?"

She nodded as she delighted in the feel of the keys giving way to her fingers, the melody floated up to her ears. Sneaking a glance at House she smiled warmly at him and stopped, scooting over on the bench to let him sit down. He took a seat as if he was walking in a fog.

"Greg? Are you okay?" Taking his hand in hers, she put his long fingers up to her cheek. "I love being able to touch you."

"How are you doing this?"

"She's so far inside, I had to surface, give her time to mend. She's very, very damaged."

"Why aren't you?"

"I was so buried that I was somewhat sheltered emotionally, it really felt like it was happening to her, not me. Plus, you have to remember, I lost my life to a man I once loved. I've kind of learned how to deal emotionally with the abuse."

House put a tentative hand on her thigh and stared into her eyes for some confirmation that it really was her and not Darcy. "How long do we have?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you here to stay or what?"

"I'm not sure what's going to happen. I started coming out when I began to recognize my home."

"You're home?"

"Here, silly, I've lived here as long as you have."

"Yeah, I guess you have."

"It felt as if I was bubbling up through the quagmire as soon as I walked in the door. It took me a few minutes, but I finally made it to the surface."

House couldn't take it. His mouth had gone dry, his hands were clammy. Everything in him had come alive as soon as he realized it was her. His foot was tapping so hard, he felt embarrassed. It was as if he was a teenaged schoolboy ready to cop his first feel.

"Greg, are you okay?"

"Crap, Annie, you're here, sitting in my living room."

Annie, perplexed, looked around and nodded. "Yes?"

He didn't say anything. Instead, his unsteady, highly excited arms, went around her as he pushed his lips over the soft pillows of her lips. His tongue tasted the salt of her lips. His nose inhaled the wisp of cinnamon that was the under-note of her perfume. All of his senses were heightened by his need for her. Annie was a little overwhelmed by his desire, but soon caught up, matching his febrile moves with her own.

"Greg?"

"Let's move this back to the bedroom."

"Okay. That works."

Back on the bed, House slowed down, holding her in his arms, so happy to be able to do this that he started to worry. Worry about how long it would last and would Darcy think he had raped her like she did before.

Annie looked into his eyes and shook her head with empathy. "I've never seen someone cycle so quickly through emotions as you just did. What happened to that mischievous smile you gave me in the living room?"

He sighed and tugged at her, holding her closer.

"Oh, I see. You're already worried about me leaving before we've even had a chance to enjoy each other."

"I can't help it. My life is a series of disappointments."

"I understand, but Greg, your life is always going to be crap if you turn great moments like this into doubts about the future. Honey, kiss me."

He looked down at her sweet, petite face in the crook of his arm and smiled. How could he have any worries when his version of heaven was right here? A beautiful, intelligent woman lay in his arms and he was about to make love to her. More importantly, it was made even sweeter knowing she loved him too.

The kiss was warm, passionate without being erotic. It was more the kiss of two lovers who reveled in being together than a couple ready to have sex. Their tongues touched gently as her hand touched his cheek, scraping along the scruff of his beard. He put his warm hand on her smooth side, just under the baggy sweatshirt. After the kiss, he nuzzled her neck and nipped her earlobe. Annie reached down and grabbed his tucked shirt where it disappeared under his belt. Pulling at the t-shirt, she managed to free it enough to get her hand underneath, sliding up his side sending goose bumps as he jerked away in response.

"Ticklish?"

"A little." He ran his fingertips along her side and watched her squirm. "Ticklish?"

A giggle escaped from her mouth as she nodded. "Greg, take your pants off."

"Is that an order?"

"Yes…take them off."

"You take that sweatshirt off."

With big grins, they both began to navigate their clothes until House, now kneeling on the bed across from Annie, was in his shorts and t-shirt, Annie in a soft stretch bra with no clasps, her breasts clearly delineated by the soft jersey that swelled lightly over her breasts. House reached out and helped pull the bra over her head, throwing it on the ground. His eyes fixed on her round, perky breasts with sweet deep pink colored nipples.

"You need to gain some weight, your breasts shrunk."

She looked down at her breasts and shrugged. "I know, they were so pretty before. But that's not very romantic telling me that I'm unattractive."

"I didn't say that. They're still breasts and they're not dragging on the ground…they meet my criteria."

Annie laughed so robustly that House joined her and then tackled her, bringing her down to the pillows. They wrestled a little and then, both out of breath, stopped and stared at each other, the longing and needs building up like a kettle starting to boil. This kiss was passionate, his tongue taking no prisoners, her hands reaching around and taking hold of his shoulder blades, pulling him into her chest. As House slid his hips over hers, she lifted up and ground into his groin, the bulge pushing back. House slipped his hand into her panties and quickly fingered her, testing her readiness. She was creamy, wet, but not sopping. He lingered, rubbing her clit over and over until she started to breathe heavily.

Stopping, he pulled down her sweats until he could discard them onto the pile of clothes that they had both removed. House looked up and saw the sweetest plain white cotton bikini panties still hugging her hips.

"As thin as you are, you almost look like a little girl. Sure I'm not going to be arrested for statutory rape?"

"Not unless you want to play prisoner and warden. I might be willing to let you out of jail if you cooperate."

He shook his head laughing as he pulled the t-shirt off. Her hand immediately came up and touched the tuft of hair between his breasts.

"It's turned silver and gray so quickly." She said wistfully.

"Now who's not being romantic? Come here." House pulled her close and slipped his hand down the back of her panties sliding down the smooth, soft skin of her ass.

Annie pulled the panties completely off, pressing her pubic bone into his raging erection which was barely contained by the thin cotton shorts he wore. "Your turn to show me what you have."

"What I have is all for you." With that, he practically ripped the shorts off of his body.

Annie grabbed his shaft and began to rub the purple pink head. "Very nice…"

"That's just right."

"Really? Mind if I try something that I haven't done before?"

"Sure." House said somewhat skeptical.

She moved into position and took him into her mouth. House gasped as she began to give him the best head he'd ever had. Having debated between letting her finish or having intercourse, he finally pulled her hair back before he exploded. Slipping over her hips, he pushed her legs apart at the thigh and positioned himself firmly between them without taking his eyes off of hers. Her eyes were a beautiful gray-blue, almost a slate with some green flecks around the pupil. They weren't exceptionally large, slightly bigger than average, but they were a lovely combination of intelligence and allure. For a moment he forgot about his need and found himself falling, falling hard into emotions he had tried to avoid his whole life. The problem was that the feelings were for two women, both who now inhabited the gorgeous female form under him. He felt light-headed, unsure as to whom he was making love.

"Greg?" Annie whispered softly. "Are you okay?"

He blinked and concentrated on her voice to pull him back then quickly realized the thick erection he had been sporting was now flaccid. "God, Annie, I'm sorry."

Annie ran her hand up his spine in a comforting manner, her fingers coming to rest on the back of his head. She pulled him down as her mouth opened slightly, her tongue moving forward to taste his lips. He let her take him, his mouth, his body, his soul, whoever she was. He let her coax a longer, firmer erection from him with her hand eventually guiding him deep inside of her. She was wet and welcoming, slowing moving her hips in a semi-circular motion hitting all the right places until his mind went blank and the only thing that registered was the white hot explosion in his groin. Collapsing onto her body, their sweat mixing, bodies heaving, he gave her a deep, passionate kiss to which Annie responded with her whole heart and body.

"Annie, I love you." House said, his voice catching with emotion.

"I love you too, but…"

He stopped and pushed up off of her and looked down before rolling off. "But?"

She looked straight up at the ceiling and said with some hesitation, "I could hear some hesitation in your voice. You love me, but…you love her too."

It took him by surprise, but it shouldn't have. Who knew him better than Annie? He couldn't lie. "I'm so confused sometimes."

"I am too. Not all of me is me. I'm intertwined with Darcy."

House squinted and knitted his brows. "So you're becoming Darcy?"

"In a way, the two of us are struggling for control or more like we're struggling to be one."

"Like multiple personalities?"

Annie shrugged.

"Give me an example."

"Okay, get me a piece of paper and pencil."

House rounded up a piece of paper and a well-bitten pencil with half an eraser. Annie started sketching a house, _his house_, the house that Darcy was designing for him.

"Alright, I see the house, now what?" House asked, a little confused.

"Greg, I've never been able to draw. My usual house looks like something a kindergarten student would draw. But now I can draw, I can design. Maybe not quite as good as Darcy, but almost. And she can play piano if she would sit down at a piano. I can meld into her life if I want."

House became quiet, not sure how to take this information. He loved Annie, but he was also being pulled towards Darcy. His evolving affection for Darcy and love for Annie was based on their distinct personalities. He felt a tug in his heart when he thought about Darcy's quiet drive, talent, kindness and even temper. But she was not one to wear her heart on her sleeve; she kept her feelings in check. On the other hand, Annie was frank and funny. She made him laugh. But Annie had a temper, sometimes threw tantrums. The two of them together were constantly sparring, sometimes to the point where they stayed angry at each other for days. Yet no one knew him like Annie, tolerated the good and bad about him like she did. He didn't have to hear Annie tell him she loved him; she radiated unconditional love. Where Darcy was still a mystery to him, Annie was an old shoe, not surprisingly he felt like he'd known her his whole life. Did he want these two distinct personalities, these two beautiful women, merging?

Annie watched his face as he absorbed all of this. From the distracted look she could tell he was weighing things in his head. Angry, she hissed. "Oh my God! You don't want us to merge. You want me to stay buried, don't you? You just want Darcy!"

House was shaken from his thoughts by the pain in her voice. "No! That's not it. I love you Annie, but I love _you, not some amalgamation of you and Darcy._ The two of you both deserve lives."

"Well, I won't have one if we don't merge. When she heals or if I leave, her personality will start to surface and unless I integrate with her you'll only see me when she's sick or drunk or at her most fragile or maybe you'll never see me again. Is that you want?"

House felt his throat constrict. The idea that Annie would be gone, stuffed away, unable to surface was mind-numbing. He started to hyperventilate. "Damn it, Annie, this is a no-win situation. Can you stuff Darcy down, keep her from surfacing?" House was beginning to think the only way to solve the situation was to have one of the two women completely subjugated to the other.

"She's vulnerable, barely functioning right now. I had to surface or she might do something really stupid. I could probably stay out for a long time, but as she grows stronger it would be harder. I thought that if we melded together, at least elements of me would be here with you."

"Is that fair to Darcy?" House asked, although he wished he hadn't because the look on Annie's face told him he had crushed her.

"You'd rather have Darcy?" Her voice was sad, quiet, child-like and her eyes welled up.

Shaking his head, House was unsure what to say. "Crap, Annie, you're asking me to make _Sophie's Choice_!"

Annie's face went blank. She nodded and baked away a little. "No, it's okay. You're right. It is unfair to Darcy. Funny, now I wish I'd never been given a do-over; it was easier when my husband stabbed me in the back."

He felt something change, as if the air in the room had been sucked out. Frightened, he quickly wrapped her up in his arms. "Annie? Annie? I love you. _I love you, don't do this."_

But she was quiet, staring off into the air. House waved his hand in front of her eyes, but she didn't blink. The fear filled his lungs as he held her close to his body, unsure as to whether he had lost Annie forever.

"Annie, no, please, let's talk about this." He rolled her back to look into her eyes, but they were looking past him. "I need to know you're there. Please, talk to me."

The silence was deafening.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

**Second Chances**

I woke up in the morning, nude, with Greg holding me, his chin resting on the top of my head. He was nude too. Once again, I wasn't sure what had happened, although I had a vague memory of having. I didn't feel violated so I knew it had been consensual. In fact, I felt protected, safe, something I hadn't felt since that horrible night. Why would I feel protected when he failed to protect me that night? I'm not sure, but maybe it's because he spoke up for me at great peril to himself; took blows for me he didn't have to take and offered to buy our freedom. I had no doubt that had he not been taken by surprise, Greg probably would have died that night trying to protect me.

Despite that, I still felt unable to move or make any sound, as if life itself were a heavy burden. I pulled back slightly and looked down at his torso; there was still a large yellow bruise on his abdomen where he had been kicked. I wanted to touch it, but my body wouldn't respond, there was no energy left in my limbs or, for that fact, my soul.

I stared at him for what must have been an hour before he stirred and his eyes opened into slits. Once he realized I was looking at him, his eyes widened. He smiled. "Annie?" I must have looked confused because he immediately shook his head, "I'm sorry; I was having a dream about my old friend, Annie. Would you like something, Darcy? Can I make you breakfast?"

I would have said something, but nothing seemed to come to mind. He tried hard to engage my eyes, but I could no longer concentrate, I felt myself tumbling back behind my eyes into the dark. His words echoed down into the core of my brain rattling around without finding its target.

"Darcy? Darcy? Look at me! Look at me, Darcy!"

His voice faded as did the rest of the day.

I'm not sure how much time passed until he finally shook me, screaming at me to eat, to drink, to wake up. I opened my eyes only to find a demented Greg, beard several days heavier, eyes darting back and forth between mine, forehead furrowed.

My throat was so dry it hurt, my body achy. I knew if I didn't give him a sign that I was alive he'd continue shaking me until my head fell off. "Water?" I asked.

The shaking came to an abrupt halt. "Darcy?" He said tentatively.

"Greg, can I have some water?" I croaked.

He paused, obviously in shock, "Uh, yeah, sure."

Bringing me back the water, I drank until my throat stopped feeling like sand paper. I handed the empty glass back to him and nodded my satisfaction.

"You need to eat." He said gently.

"How long have I been here?"

"A couple of days. You ate when you got here, but you've been practically catatonic since then."

I looked down and saw that I was no longer nude; he had put a t-shirt on me. "I was nude before. Did we have sex?"

He heaved a huge sigh as if he expected me to be upset. "Yes, we had sex. _But I didn't rape you."_

"I know. I could see us having sex, but it was as if I was watching through someone else's eyes if that makes any sense." I sat up a little straighter. "I know it was consensual."

He relaxed. "I'll make you some breakfast. If you want to clean up, your bag is over there."

I nodded and watched as he limped out, leaning heavily on his cane. I took a whiff of my arm pits and decided he was right, perhaps even being too polite to simply suggest I clean up. I was rank. The warm shower felt good, energizing. I stayed in a little too long and my fingers started to look like white prunes. When I stepped out, Greg was sitting on a small chair with a cup of tea in his hand.

"I realized you drink tea, not coffee. Milk, right?"

My arms went around my breasts, but then I realized there was nothing to be modest about, he'd seen me naked on several occasions. So, instead I grabbed a towel and toweled off, putting my panties on, a t-shirt and track pants. He motioned to the kitchen and I followed, finding a simple breakfast of bacon and scrambled eggs, toast and tea. It took me almost half an hour to eat it. Greg, who had inhaled his breakfast, watched me as if attempted to finish my meal.

"Jesus, a bill through Congress moves faster than you."

"I just don't feel hungry."

"You're in the second stage of starvation. Your body stops feeling hunger." He put my plate in the dishwasher and then handed me my purse. "I have a patient so I have to go in for awhile. I'm taking you with me."

"Can't I go home?"

He shook his head. "No, you need supervision. You've been sleeping too much."

"But, what will I do?"

"Watch television, eat in the cafeteria, flirt with the nurses, hide from Cuddy." He stopped and thought a second, smiled and said, "No, wait, that's me."

"Can't I stay here then?"

"You'll sleep."

"What if I promise not to sleep?"

"What will you do?"

"I could work on your house plans if you let me call Jenny."

He thought about it and shook his head. "Fine, you can work on them down at the hospital. Call Jenny and have her bring them to Princeton-Plainsboro."

"Oh, Greg, please let me stay here; I don't want to be around people."

"That's why you're coming. I promise to put you somewhere by yourself, but I need to check on you, make sure you're not rolling up into a ball."

"But I'll need a drawing board."

"There's one at the hospital." House watched her shoulders collapse in disappointment. "Come on Darcy, you need to get back on the horse."

"I was never up on one as it was."

"Oh, I think there's been a few times you could say you were up on your high horse."

House was actually pleased that I stuck my tongue out at him, I guess he could see a little of my old spirit coming back.

He set me up on a table in the doctor's lounge and checked back a few times during the day. At first he could tell my heart wasn't in it, but he asked a few questions, suggested things he wanted in the house and I perked up a little. I had a challenge—to incorporate the things he had asked for. At noon, he practically force fed me in the cafeteria with an amused Wilson watching. By the end of the day, I was asleep on the couch in the lounge having run out of energy after putting in several hours of hard work.

"Come on lazy bones, time to go home so I can feed you!" House said as he kicked the couch.

"You don't have to feed me, I already ate."

"Lunch? I'm talking dinner."

"Oh." I said soberly.

"Hey, I'm prepared to buy you anything you want. Mexican? Indian? Chinese? American? How about a nice cheeseburger with curly fries and an apple turnover?"

"Too processed."

"You need processed…you need calories."

"Can we stop at _Oscars_ and get a salad?"

"Boring, but yes."

We ate at _Oscars_, munching on a Santa Fe chicken salad with bread sticks. I looked over at Greg and watched as he, ever so vigilant, surveyed everything around him. It struck me that, despite the disheveled appearance, he looked incredibly intelligent. The blue eyes were sharp, but sad. Pushing aside my evaluation of the man across from me, I asked, "When can I go home?"

"When you put on ten pounds."

"_Ten pounds?"_

"At least."

"I'll be living with you for months! Besides, I don't need to gain ten pounds."

"You've lost at least fifteen. I'm letting you keep five off as long as you gain the ten back in your breasts."

I rolled my eyes. "This is absurd; I'm not living in a one bedroom apartment with you for months."

"Well, I can move in with you again, but at the apartment it's easier for me to take care of you, keep an eye on you at night."

I raised an eyebrow. "Greg, why are you doing this? Why are you taking care of me? I'm a mess."

He nodded solemnly, his whole demeanor changed. "You are a mess." He put a hand to his forehead and rubbed as his eyes grazed the ground. "I feel guilty. I couldn't protect you then, let me help you now."

"Oh, Greg." I shook my head. This had been as hard on him as on m. "It wasn't your fault. You were very brave. I don't blame you."

He took a labored breath. "I know you don't blame me, but I blame me. If I had only realized what was happening when I walked in rather than let that asshole jump me, I'd—"

"Please, Greg, please. Let's not talk about it, okay? I don't blame you, I blame those assholes."

"By the way, I got a call from detective Anderson; they think they have a lead. Apparently, they found a pubic hair on your…" I think he was going to say ass, but decided I was too fragile for him to be so blunt. "Body. They're running the DNA."

"Oh."

"You don't seem too excited about the prospect of them catching the guys."

"And relive it all over again in court?"

"Maybe they'll plead out."

I shrugged; I could feel my body tense at the thought of that night. Despite all my efforts to hold back, I started to cry as if a dam broke.

Greg looked around and saw everyone in the restaurant staring at us. He threw some money on the table for a tip and stood up, enveloping me into his arms. "Let's go home."

I wiped my nose on my sleeve and nodded, allowing him to guide me to the car wrapped in his long, warm arms. He was gentle and quiet as we crossed the parking lot. I wrapped an arm around his waist and put my head on his chest. When he placed me in the car, he waited a moment before closing the door, giving me a brief smile to let me know he understood before getting into the driver's seat and driving home. The silence was comforting.

**Dear Readers,**

**Thanks so much for reading and commenting. We don't have much left in this story. I hope you enjoy the rest of it. I do appreciate the reviews, it's always nice to get them. Kim**


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

**The First Time**

When they walked inside, House turned on the light and turned to her. "Darcy, why don't you go back to the bedroom and I'll bring you some hot chocolate?"

She shook her head and looked straight into her eyes. "No, I don't want hot chocolate, but I do want you to come back with me. Maybe this time I'll remember you making love to me."

House stopped and stared, unsure that he was hearing right. "Darcy?"

"Greg?"

"I just wanted to make sure it's you."

"Who else would it be?" She asked, her head tilted, somewhat befuddled.

He snickered and shook his head. "If you only knew." His arm slipped around her shoulders as they walked back to his bedroom. House realized that this was really the first time that he would be making love to Darcy and that fact wasn't lost on him. For some reason he wanted it to be perfect, perfect so that she would see that he would never harm her.

Darcy turned and looked hopefully into his eyes. "This is scary…I'm very nervous. I just want you to take the pain away. I need this, Greg."

House understood. Slipping his hand over her cheek, he smiled at the freckles on her nose, the pale lips that she turned up to him, the smell of her soap on her neck. He carefully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and then leaned in to kiss her, their lips brushing at first, their noses touching side to side. He pressed harder, letting his mouth open slightly as hers did too. He didn't use his tongue, waiting first to see what her response was to their kiss.

Darcy was impatient, her tongue slid into his mouth as she grabbed the back of his head. She wrapped a leg around his waist. Passion rising, House lifted her up and threw her on the bed before taking his t-shirt off.

Darcy looked up at him as he started on his belt buckle. "Make love to me, Greg."

As his fingers flew over his zipper he nodded. "Believe me, I'm trying. It might help if you began taking your clothes off too."

"Don't you want to do that?" She asked.

"I vote for efficiency right now…I'm having a hard time keeping things…contained."

"Well, don't keep them contained! I need to feel you." She barked and then caught herself. Her voice softened. "I really need to know that I can do this. That I won't always black out or freak out when a man touches me in a sexual way."

"Black out?"

"Well, I only vaguely remember us having sex before."

He dropped his jeans and then took off his boxers revealing his desire for her in the form of a rock hard erection. She pulled her shirt over her head and began to unzip the jeans, pulling them and the plain pink panties down to the floor. House's hand slipped down to her thigh, stroking between her legs. Darcy undid the latch in the front of her bra and then turned her naked body to him.

House let his finger burrow between the folds until he could feel the little nub that was swelling under the tip of his finger. Darcy didn't speak. She concentrated on his touch and the wickedly delicious feelings that were pulsing under his finger, the excitement she felt was comforting, she had expected repulsion, but instead she just wanted more.

"That's great…" She said and then inhaled deeply as he leaned in and licked her breast. The feel of his breath against her wet skin sent shivers through her body. Everything tingled with excitement. It had never tingled like this before, not with anyone, not like this. "Oh, God, Greg, I'm so close."

He pulled her leg up and entered her, grateful for how warm, wet and inviting she was. He danced inside of her, enjoying the feel of his skin on her skin, her lips playing with his, their hands moving slowly up and down, touching intimate spaces. House continued to plow into her, taking pleasure from the feel of her muscles wrapped around his shaft.

"Greg, I'm coming. Oh…oh, this is…oh, oh, yes, yes."

House said nothing because he could say nothing. Her breath in his ear and the sounds of her orgasm sent him into that black hole where the world was far away and only sexual gratification was felt. Within seconds, all he could feel was the power and satisfaction of ejaculating. Even the moans coming from Darcy sounded far off. As his orgasm faded, he finally realized that Darcy was clutching him in a vice grip. At first he thought something was wrong, but then he realized she was grabbing him with joy.

"Thank you. I didn't think I could enjoy sex again, but obviously I can."

He hugged her back. "Not many can resist the sex Guru known as Gregory House."

She laughed. "Oh, you are so full of yourself."

"Better that than false humility."

"You seem better."

"I owe that to you. I'm still fragile, but being around you makes me feel more myself."

They lay in bed for a few minutes until House finally looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed and a faint smile crossed her face. He asked, "Darcy, do you play the piano?"

She shook her head. "No, I never learned to play the piano. I had a few flute lessons as a kid, but I wasn't very good. I was better at math and drawing which is why I became an architect."

House felt sad, he had hoped that some of Annie had been left behind, but he realized that Annie was probably gone.

"What is it, Greg? Why the long face?"

He swallowed hard. "I was just thinking about a friend who died. She could play the piano really well, but she was a lousy artist."

"Was it this Annie you keep referring to?"

"Yes." He said softly.

"You really miss her don't you? How did she die?"

"Domestic violence. Her husband killed her."

"Oh my God! That's horrible! I thought maybe you two had been an item…I mean the way you talk about her—"

He bolted upright. "Let's not talk about it. _Let's dance!_ I'll put some music on and we can twist the night away!"

Darcy laughed and shook her head at the same time. "I don't think so. I rarely dance and when I do, it's at some event I have to attend. I'm not really a dancer. Why don't we look at the plans I brought home and you can tell me if you like the changes."

"You want to work? We just had mind blowing sex and you want to talk about closets and French doors?"

Darcy's face fell. "I thought it might be fun…sorry."

"Hey, you're right." He swung his legs off the side of the bed. "Why don't we look at them out in the kitchen on the table?"

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. Darcy got up and went into the bathroom while House sat on the edge of the bed and thought. Annie would have been dancing and making him laugh at her quirky moves. But, Annie was gone and Darcy, intelligent, creative Darcy, was like him, unable to keep from working. Maybe they were better suited for each other, both dedicated to what they did, both enjoying their craft more than the company of others. Still, she was good company when they were together.

"Are you going to take a shower?" She called out from the bathroom.

He could hear the shower and knew that she expected him to join her, something he welcomed. He reveled in the view of her petite but curvy body and he loved touching it. Walking into the bathroom, he pulled back the shower curtain and climbed in behind her, holding her body close to his. She seemed to welcome the attention, putting her head on his chest as the water beat down on her back.

"Thank you, Greg. For everything."

He chuckled. "My pleasure…and I mean it—my pleasure."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**Together**

Weeks passed and both House and Darcy fell into an easy rhythm. They spent time together and then they spent time apart, allowing them both time to recharge and enjoy the relationship without feeling smothered. Darcy realized that House was the perfect man for her, intelligent, unpredictable, loving in his own way but very much his own person.

They sometimes had disagreements, but House soon found that Darcy didn't engage long in fighting, not like Stacy, Cuddy or especially Annie. Darcy would state her position and then shut up while House flung his hands in the air and raised his voice, hoping to get a rise out of her. If he insisted on continuing a negative behavior, she simply ignored him, sending him home, refusing his calls, turning down invitations and declining to let him bully her until he reached his own version of a compromise and they talked it out. House soon learned to control his emotional explosions to prevent days of being ostracized. Unlike Cuddy, it wasn't that she made demands of him which initiated the fights, it was House that was making the demands that she refused to meet. He wanted more time with her, to move in with her and he wanted her to come with him to functions so that he could show her off. But Darcy had her own functions to attend and, unlike Stacy and Cuddy, she never demanded he join her. It was always left up to him whether he went with her. Because she didn't seem to care one way or another, House often went to her events, if only to make sure someone didn't hit up on her.

He knew the night they had a fight and she went to a _Breast Cancer Awareness Ball _dressed in a very provocative dress by herself that he was hopelessly obsessed with her. He drove to the event and spent the entire night spying on her, watching as numerous men danced and flirted with her. To be fair to Darcy, she didn't seem receptive to the flirting and the dancing was always done with the appropriate high-school spacing. Still, when one man, a few sheets to the wind, picked up her necklace from her chest and suggestively ran his hand around the chain, brushing the exposed mounds of her breasts, House came out of hiding and crossed to the table, barking at the man to get away. Darcy, bright red and completely humiliated by her boyfriend in the wrinkled shirt and faded jeans, took off for the door, driving home so fast that she was stopped by a motorcycle cop. House pulled in behind the police cruiser, causing the cop to immediately pull his gun in self-defense. The officer stood next to Darcy's car as House approached.

"Sorry, officer, it's my boyfriend. He must be worried. We just had a fight and he's probably going to say a lot of things to you that you're not going to like, but please bear with him, he's worried that I'm going to leave him."

The officer watched as House walked purposefully towards him with his cane, which to the cop looked a lot like a possible weapon. "Are you?" The officer asked Darcy.

"Am I leaving him? No, he's an ass, but he's really a good guy underneath. He saves a lot of lives—he's a famous doctor."

"Yeah?" He said as House got closer. "What's his name?"

"Gregory House."

"House? That's House? He saved my friend's son a few years back. Oh, yeah, I remember this guy. What a jerk. He's your boyfriend?" It was said with some incredulity.

House was now screaming insults at the cop, but the cop said nothing back. Instead he handed Darcy her license back. "I have a feeling being his girlfriend is enough punishment. Slow down and have a nice evening."

"…stupid, donut eating-"

"_Greg, shut up!_ This nice officer is letting me go, now get back in your car and go home. I really don't want to talk to you tonight, understand?"

The cop turned to House, his gun still half way out of his holster. House took a look at the gun and then Darcy and nodded quietly, returning to his car and driving to her house. Darcy wasn't surprised to see his car in the drive when she got home. Once inside, she shook her head in disgust at him.

"Honestly, I need time alone so I want you to leave. I'll see you tomorrow." Darcy knew that more contact with House would only end up in a huge blowout, something she didn't want. Despite being embarrassed, she was also pleased that he cared enough to jump to her defense. If he hadn't shown up, she would have probably made a scene herself, costing her clients. Still, she was tired and had a lot on her mind, she needed time to think things through and an anxious House would never let her have time to think. He'd brow-beat her until she told him what had her so worried.

"I'm not going." He said with the sound of a temperamental toddler.

"Fine, then I'll leave."

House knew she would leave even though it was her house; she'd done it before. He didn't know where she went, but he knew it was futile trying to convince her to let him stay when she used that tone. "I'll go, but you'll call tomorrow?"

"Yes."

The next day was a very wet and cold day with the sun completely obscured by black clouds. House woke at ten and spent the remainder of the morning drinking coffee and reading the newspaper in bed. At eleven-thirty he heard a key in the door and knew it was either Wilson or Darcy, they were the only ones with keys. It was more likely Darcy, because Wilson would have knocked first. He stood up and walked down the hall towards the living room.

The door opened and she walked in wearing a plain sweater over black trousers and black boots. Standing in the living room, she looked around and sighed before crossing to the piano, sitting down and playing without hesitation. House grinned. The style and flawless performance could mean only one thing, Annie was back.

House barely got out her name, "Annie?"

She stopped, still looking down at her fingers, pausing before responding. Without looking up, Annie swallowed hard and said, "She's pregnant."

House froze, unable to really grasp what she was saying.

"She's pregnant, but she's going to get an abortion." She finally looked up into his eyes.

"An abortion?" House shook his head vigorously. "But she wanted a baby. She still has the clothes and furniture packed away."

"No, she's weighed it over in her mind and has reached a decision." Annie began to play again. "You look shocked. I thought you'd be happy with her decision."

"I don't know what I feel. Why is she getting an abortion?"

"She doesn't think you'd make a good father and she's convinced herself that having a baby would eventually be the death knell in your relationship. She loves you and she's not willing to chance it."

House thought about this and all its implications. Darcy was willing to sacrifice motherhood to be with him? But she was making this decision without him. Why? "I guess I'm flattered but I don't understand why we don't talk about it."

"It's obvious, Greg, she wants the baby, but believes she has to have the abortion if she wants to keep you, so why discuss it with you? Besides, she doesn't really want to hear you tell her that you don't want to be a father, that you want her to get an abortion. It would only cause her pain to hear it from your lips."

"Annie, come sit with me." He patted the sofa next to him, pushing the papers onto the floor as he did.

"No, Greg."

"Why?"

"I didn't come to start anything between us. I just came because I thought you should know about the baby."

"Why?" He asked.

"Because I know you better than she does and I'm not so sure she's right. You're good with kids, you were great with Rachel and I know you enjoyed being around her. I'm not convinced that you'd be a lousy father and I think the baby deserves to live." She sounded passionate and a little sad. "Anyway, I just feel as if you should have a say."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you want to be a mother? It's your body too."

"I would love to be a mother, but it's not my decision. I only surfaced because she's got a fever and is on cold medication and I saw a chance to tell you. It's taking everything I have to surface and be here."

"I'm sorry about the last time we were together. I miss you."

"Don't. Don't say that. I've done what you wanted; I've given her the body, let her memories subjugate mine. I'm having trouble remembering things now…my memories are fading. I won't be around for long."

"Annie, don't say that. I still love you. I don't understand, if her soul is gone, why is she the dominant personality?"

"We get a do-over, but we don't get to do-over our lives. Souls are separate from our personalities, our memories. Our souls have to learn things, not our bodies or personalities. Her soul had learned all it needed to pass on to the next level. That doesn't mean her personality died or her memories died, they'll die when her body does. I get to live her life so my soul, not my personality, can learn its lessons. My memories are fading, Greg. My life, my previous life is slipping away."

Annie jumped up and started for the door. House grabbed her wrist.

There was a terrible sound as if she was being strangled. "Please, Greg. Don't do this. I've given you what you wanted."

"_I didn't want this! I don't want you to slip away!"_

"Bull. You were a coward; you didn't want to make a _decision_, you just wanted it _resolved_. I had to make the decision because you wouldn't so you have no right to say anything."

"But maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you integrated."

"Screw you, Greg. You had your chance...it's too late now." She pulled away and lurched for the door, finding the knob and slipping through before he could grab her again.

House felt like he'd been kicked by a mule. His chest was constricting and he felt lightheaded. Sitting down before he fell down, he tilted forward to put his head between his legs. Once he felt better, he sat back and let himself ruminate on what had just happened.

In one fell swoop he discovered that Darcy was pregnant, about to abort their child and Annie was disappearing forever. It felt like the end of the world, yet there was one saving grace, Darcy was aborting their child because she wanted to be with him. It felt like an absurd farce.

_A child, a baby. __Darcy a mother? Me a father? _ He could see Annie as a mother. _She'd love the kid to death. She'd be a lion, protecting her cub from the world._ But Darcy? What kind of mother would she be? _A cerebral mother, logical and artistic, but loving in her own way. And me as a father? Could I give the kid what it needed? I don't know, but Annie believes in me. She believes so much, she spent all her energy to tell me so. Is she right? Can I do this? Why won't Darcy give me a chance?_

**_Thanks for reading, we're getting close to the end...only two more chapters. Thank you for taking the time to review my story._**


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

**Decisions**

House felt paralyzed, unable to take action. He must have sat there for an hour trying to think things through, but he was getting nowhere. When his cell phone rang, it took several rings before he realized a call was coming through.

"Hello?"

"Greg?" It was Darcy, she sounded drugged.

"Darcy?"

"I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier. I woke up with a fever and sore throat so I took some cold medicine but it made me really sleepy. I'm still having trouble staying awake."

"I'll come over and make you some tea."

"No, don't bother, you don't have to, I'll probably be asleep."

"It's okay; I'll watch some TV while you sleep."

"Suit yourself. I'll see you soon."

When he arrived, she was asleep. He put his hand on her head and could tell that she had a slight fever. He leaned down and kissed her head and then went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Sitting down, he turned on the flatscreen that was discretely hidden behind art work which slipped down with the click of a remote control.

Around four, Darcy shuffled out, her nose red and her lips chapped. She walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass. Taking it over to the refrigerator, she drew water from the icemaker on the refrigerator.

"You want something to eat?" House asked.

"I was just going to heat up some soup."

"I'll do it for you. Come here and sit down"

She slowly made her way over to the couch and sat down as he got up. Fifteen minutes later she had a bowl of chicken soup in her hands and sat blowing on it to cool it down.

House sat down next to her, sitting his bowl on the coffee table to cool. "So, when were you going to tell me about the abortion?"

She dropped the hot soup on the edge of the coffee table, causing the bowl to shatter and the hot liquid slide down her pajama leg. A loud scream escaped her lips as she jumped up, running to the bathroom for a towel, cutting her foot on the broken china.

"Are you okay?" House called out.

"I burned my leg, but luckily the brunt of it was absorbed by my pant leg. Can you come and tell me how bad it is?"

He walked into the bathroom and found her standing next to the toilet in her panties and long sleeved t-shirt. Looking at her leg, he saw that it was red down the lower inner thigh and calf. On the calf was a small blister that had risen up. "It's just first degree...except there on your calf where you have a blister, that might be second degree. You'll survive."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Do you have something to put on it? Some antibiotic cream?"

She nodded. Rummaging through some drawers she found the ointment and smeared it over her leg and on the blister. There was a cooling sensation, probably from the aloe vera contained in it.

"You'll have to wear lose clothing for a few days or a skirt." He said.

"Yeah, I figured that." She went into her bedroom and found a peasant skirt, putting it on before walking back out to the living room.

House took a seat on the sofa again and noticed that Darcy was shaking. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"How did you find out?" She asked as she took a seat on the chair opposite the sofa.

"A birdie told me. I'm a doctor; I can tell when a woman is pregnant. How many weeks?"

"Almost eight."

"What's the plan?" House baited her.

"Plan?"

"Abortion or baby?"

Darcy took a deep breath. "I don't want to lose you. I wish I didn't care, but I do."

"What does that have to do with whether or not you keep the little bastard?"

Darcy flinched. "Bastard is pretty harsh."

"Shoe fits. Now what does our relationship have to do about whether you kill this fetus?"

"God, don't put it like that!"

"You want me to lie? Sugarcoat it?"

"No, I just want you to not call our baby a bastard."

House swallowed hard and winced when she referred to the fetus as "our baby." He nodded, "Fair enough. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to have an abortion."

"Why? Just a year ago you were looking forward to having a baby. Aren't my genes good enough?"

"If I had the baby, would you stick around?"

"I don't know."

"That's why I'm having an abortion. I don't want to be raising a baby on my own."

He stared at her, giving him a chance to think. "I tell you what; let me think about it before you do anything drastic."

"I have an appointment this Friday."

"So essentially I have five days to think about it?"

"Yes."

He stood up and walked over, pulling Darcy up to her feet gently. His arms went around her and they stood holding each other for what seemed to Darcy a long time. It felt good to be in his arms again.

After ruminating for a month, she had decided to get the abortion, made the appointment and then started the process of coming to terms with it. There was no kidding herself; Darcy knew that this was probably her last chance at being a mother, but she believed strongly in having two parents raising a child. She knew that marriages and relationships didn't last, that children were sometimes the collateral damage, but even so, the child would have two parents in the picture, even if the parents weren't together. But Gregory House was a wild card. If he didn't want the child, he wouldn't stick around. She'd spend her life trying to be both father and mother to the baby, explaining why Daddy wasn't around to help. Darcy wanted the baby, but she also knew that being a workaholic meant that she would need a strong support system and even now, wrapped in his arms, Darcy wasn't sure House could provide that, even if he promised to be there for her and the baby.

"Do you want me to stay?" He asked; his voice soft and comforting.

"I'm taking some more cold medicine—oh, is that good for the baby? I've been taking it because I've already scheduled the abortion."

"Over the counter cold medicine won't hurt unless you overdo it."

"Well, then, I'm going to take some and go back to bed. I don't think I'll be very good company for you tonight."

House shrugged. "I could tuck you in; make sure you don't overdose on Nyquil."

"Whatever, I just know I need to go back to bed." She shuffled back to the bedroom and climbed in bed with House following close behind. As she climbed in, he undressed down to his shorts and t-shirt, crawling in on the other side.

He scooted into the middle and spooned her. "You know, once you have kids, sex is never spontaneous again. You have to schedule it in between soccer practice and laundry."

"I have enough money to pay a housekeeper to do my laundry."

He snickered, pulling her in tighter.

"Oh! Be careful, my tummy feels like a front loading washing machine."

"You still smell good."

"That's my shampoo."

"No, I know your shampoo and I know your smell. This is your smell. Kinda sweet, cinnamon-ny."

"Go to sleep." She moaned.

"Darcy?"

"Huh?"

"What kind of parents do you think we'd make? Both of us spend too much time in our own worlds."

She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. "I don't know, but I suspect that when you have a child things change...you change. My very selfish narcissistic friends seem to have all become devoted parents...why, I don't know."

"The "prime directive."" House said.

"Don't interfere with life on alien planets?"

"No-procreation. It's our life goal...to pass on our genes."

"Go to sleep, Spock."

He chuckled in her ear. "Okay, Captain."

Within minutes she was breathing deeper, fast asleep.

He wasn't convinced they were the best parents for a kid. He wished he was more like Annie. It had to take guts to pick up her kid and leave her violent husband, especially back in the fifties. Annie had no college education back then, she worked as a parts clerk at an auto dealership and in the evening she taught piano to feed her kid after she left her husband. She was the kind of mother that would do anything, sacrifice anything, to be a good mother.

"Annie?" House whispered. "Please, Annie, I need to talk to you."

There was no response.

"Annie, I've changed my mind, talk to me woman."

But there was no response. House stared into the dark of the bedroom, knowing that he had made a crucial mistake in letting her go without a fight. He didn't expect sleep to come, but it did. The dreams were very odd so when he started to get cold, he thought he was still dreaming, but he wasn't. It was cold, really cold.

"Greg? You wanted to talk to me?"

House blinked, trying to figure out who was talking to him. Then it hit him, it was Annie's voice in the dark, speaking to him. Despite sharing the same body, Annie's speech was quicker, more sing song; whereas Darcy spoke like a true professional, calm and deliberate.

"Annie?" He turned his head and jerked back; she was less than six inches from his face.

"What?" She said quietly.

"I want you to integrate with Darcy."

"_What?"_she sounded annoyed.

"You know, what you were going to do-integrate, mix you two up."

"But you love her, not me."

He put his arm around her and pulled her even closer. "You know that's not true. I love you both. And I realized that life is going to be crappy without you in it. The only answer is for you to integrate your personality with Darcy."

"What brought this on?"

"The baby. Darcy will make a good mom, but you'd make a great one. I want what's best for both of them and as much as I love Darcy, she's still hurting from the rape and she's burying herself in her work. The baby's going to need you, Annie. Mixing you and Darcy can only be a good thing."

"You want the baby?"

"I want you and Darcy to be happy, I know the baby's my best bet for making that happen. You know me and kids, we get along just fine, but I'll need help, Darcy will need help. We need you."

There was silence as she continued to consider his request. "I don't know what will happen if I do this. We may integrate the bad things; she may get my anger issues and I get her paranoia from the rape. I don't know what will end up surfacing."

"But some of you will; I'm willing to bet that you can make one really great woman. Annie, I miss you. I miss the way you make me laugh, the way you're able to put up with me, your faith in me. You've got to try."

"You're absolutely sure?"

He kissed her lips gently. "Absolutely." He smiled as his hand slid down to her hip. "Uh, do you have a cold too?"

She snickered. "I have a cold too...I share the same body."

"Damn."

"Good night, Greg."

"Wait! Annie, will we be able to talk?"

"I don't know how this works, Greg. You may not be able to call me Annie, but you'll probably recognize bits and pieces of me as we meld. But isn't it exciting?"

"Exciting?"

"We're going to be parents!"

"Crap."

They fell asleep holding each other, safe in their own world, safe in each other's arms.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

**Oompa!**

When I woke up, my head was buried on his chest and some slobber was draining from the corner of my lip. The cold had moved to my chest, but I felt ebullient. It made no sense that I could feel so miserable yet feel so great. I was optimistic, as if wrongs had been righted and the world was spinning perfectly on its axis. I looked up at Greg and saw him sleeping, a sight that seemed so familiar that it made me smile. I could picture him as a tall, skinny child in his twin bed, sleeping with his wavy reddish brown hair crowning his head, eyes closed, mouth opened and surrounded by musical instruments. It seemed so real to me that I felt emotions welling up inside me, a feeling of nostalgia and happiness mixed into one.

We were going to keep the baby. I knew it as certain as I knew that the sun set in the west. Despite my concerns yesterday, I was no longer afraid that Greg would be a crappy dad. It was as if I'd seen him around children on numerous occasions and had confidence in his ability to relate to them. In reality, I'd never really seen Greg interact with a child.

He woke up and gave me a raised eyebrow. "What's up?"

I wiped my mouth on the back up my hand and tried to smile, to reassure him it was all good. "Greg, I want to keep the baby."

"Tell me something I don't know." He closed his eyes again and grunted, "I can live with that."

"You can?"

"But only if you design my house so that we can all live there together."

"You want me to move in with you?" I asked.

"Yeah, I think we need to try it out, don't you?"

I nodded slowly. "It would be great to know if we could do this together."

"You don't think we can?"

I shrugged. "I know this sounds crazy, but I feel as if I already know what I'm getting into."

He smiled and shook his head thinking of Annie lurking inside of her. "Doesn't sound crazy at all. Well, you better get well so you can build my house."

"Once I get rid of this cold, I'll get right on it."

**Epilogue**

"You look pretty good on the television, despite those massively wide hips and protruding tummy."

"Shut up!" I yelled as I lowered my head onto his lap to watch the creek bubble past. "You should talk; you looked grumpy, like you need an enema."

"I am grumpy and I am full of it." House teased.

I softened as I thought back to the eleven o'clock news. "No you're not. All you have to do is see how sweet your daughter looked in your arms when the camera moved in on you two at the courthouse and you'd know that you're not full of it."

"It's the blue eyes, long fingers, intelligent demeanor. She is a House you know." He smiled down at me.

"It was the chocolate smeared around her tiny mouth."

Annie had just eaten a chocolate candy bar when we were coming out of the courthouse and apparently the cameraman had fallen in love with her because he focused on her face through most of the press conference. The D.A made an impassioned speech about justice, but the camera focused mostly on Annie's little face.

"Still, we looked like we all belong together." Greg insisted.

"God, I'm glad it's over." I said.

He started stroking my face and hair, I could feel myself relaxing. "Me too. The D.A. did a good job."

"I'm so glad I didn't have to testify. You're okay with Twenty-five to life, right?" I asked.

"I'd prefer death by public stoning, but 25 years is a good start for what those two did to you."

There was a silent pause as we both considered the scene in the courthouse, the pleas, the sentencing. I finally purred, "You know, she'll be asleep for an hour, maybe longer." Lifting up, I wiggled my eyebrows. "A little spontaneous sex?"

"I told you that there is no spontaneous sex anymore; even this is planned sex between lunch and playtime, sex during naptime. What about the piano tuner? When is he coming?"

"He's scheduled for tomorrow just before my lesson." I put my head back down.

"Lesson? You've been playing six months and you play better than me." Greg admitted without reservation.

"I do not." But then I looked up at him and grinned. "But give me time and I will!"

"Cheeky monkey," he said pinching my cheek.

I stood up and grabbed his hand, looking down as he sat on the wrought iron sofa, his sunglasses were hiding his best features. The June wind was in between a spring cool and summer hot. I looked out at the deep green of the June foliage and sighed. It was our mutual birthday but we had decided to celebrate it the following weekend. We had managed to convince Thirteen and Chase to babysit overnight so we could drive to New York for dinner, a show and a night in a nice hotel.

"Come on birthday boy, I bet you'd like to see my birthday suit." I cooed.

"Nah, I know what it looks like it." He feigned a lack of interest.

I slapped him across the head. "Fine, I'll go in by myself." I started to cross the slate patio and up the pavers to the large French Doors leading into the Great Room. We'd only been in the new home seven months, moving in during the first snow storm of the season, but it felt like home from day one. I hated moving from my historical log home, but was glad to know that it would be occupied for awhile by Chase and Thirteen. They were living in it while I designed and built a new home for them. After they saw Greg's house being built, they hired me in my ninth month of pregnancy to design theirs. That was eighteen months ago. It took them six months to find the perfect lot. They had searched for the perfect lot with Becky while Greg and I welcomed Annie into our lives.

Annie, little precious Annie, a vivacious pink faced ball of energy. Her personality was over the top from the day she came screaming into this world. Despite being only six pounds, six ounces, she ruled the roost and, more importantly, dominated her father from the minute she was born. He was putty in her tiny little fingers and he wouldn't have it any other way though he made a good show of telling everyone that being a parent sucked.

There was no doubt she was her father's daughter. Not only did she share his eyes and hair color, they seemed to be on the same wavelength and share a common language that I didn't. He could calm her when I had lost all hope. He could also aggravate her when I begged him not to. Physically, the only things Annie and I seemed to have in common were our noses and the freckles on them. Temperamentally, she was all Greg, all mischief and willful.

I felt reborn. I worked hard, but not the long hours I used to work. I turned down projects, accepting only the ones I really wanted to do. I spent most of my free time playing and taking care of Greg and Annie. They both made me laugh, which was strange in itself. My friends said that my laugh had changed, it was heartier, bolder, quicker and I didn't quite seem to take everything so seriously.

Greg had followed me inside and was now pinching and patting my butt as we tickled and jostled with each other on the way back to the master bedroom which was on the first floor and overlooked the creek from the north side. We had modified the house plans to include a small room next to ours as the nursery, which, after Annie was a little older, we would knock down the adjoining wall and make it an ensuite sitting room. Annie would then be moved to one of the two bedrooms upstairs. There was also a loft area at the top of the landing overlooking the woods, the back yard and the creek. The views from any widow in the house were spectacular and the house itself had won an Orchid in Princeton, an architectural award for excellence.

We crept down the hall to Annie's room and peeked inside. Watching her sleep was one of our favorite things to do. After getting our fill, we slipped back to the master bedroom and spent the next hour making love and holding each other, laughing at the expense of each other's egos, another favorite past time.

I'm not going to lie-living with Greg House is an exercise in patience. When he wants your attention, he gets it. When he wants to be alone, he gets it. The only person who tops him on the demands list is Annie House. When she makes a demand, the whole house is at her disposal.

When she started talking we thought it was cute, but now we're not so convinced. When she starts nattering, it goes on and on and on. Greg says she reminds him of the Annie that she's named after. Sometimes I wonder about this other Annie, because every once in awhile Greg smiles at something I've said and when I ask him why he doesn't usually answer, but sometimes he just says that I sound like her—like Annie. The strange thing is that Greg doesn't have any photos of this Annie, yet he seems to have been very close to her.

Our Annie's full name is Siobhan Annie Finnegan-House, but no one in America seems to know how to pronounce her first name despite the fact that it's easy—"Shee-vaughn." So she ended up just being Annie to everyone.

We're not married and to tell you the truth, we haven't even discussed it. However, one day I discovered a bill left suspiciously out on the counter from a lawyer and then five days later papers arrived in the mail for Greg. He opened them, took a look and then slid them across the counter to me as I cooked dinner.

"What's this?" I asked.

"A trust. If I die the house goes to you, the rest goes to Annie in a trust. You're the trustee of both trusts."

"I get the house?"

"I know how much you love the house; besides, I know it will eventually go to Annie. And since you have enough money from your husband to live the good life, you don't need any of mine."

I had to laugh at that. It was the truth, but we hardly lived the "good life." The only one that got a new outfit from time to time was 'the apple of his eye' Annie, I didn't have time to shop for myself. Greg had become obsessed with buying Annie clothes and other things such as a small version of a Rickenbacker guitar and a toddler piano. From day one, Annie was introduced to music through her father. She sometimes slept on top of the piano when she was a small infant while her dad would knock out tunes. He spent so much time at the piano that he started showing me how to play. For some reason, I was a natural, picking it up really fast. After six months of piano lessons, my teacher told me that I was almost as good as she was and that soon I'd need someone with more expertise to teach me. I enjoyed playing, but I have to admit, Greg enjoyed playing even more. Music played a big part in his life, I suspect because he's always felt alone and music helped him forget that as well as give him a bridge to reach out to other musicians.

A loud wail came from the nursery, but I didn't even flinch. I knew that Greg would reach her before I would. Even with a bum leg, he seemed to be faster than a speeding bullet whenever his daughter cried. She was in a 'big girl's bed' which was actually one of those toddler beds that had been converted from her crib. I had to convert it when Greg taught her how to crawl out of her "prison" aka crib, when she was sixteen months. After massive bruises that started to alarm the clinic doctors (who eyed us suspiciously,) I decided it was time to put her bed closer to earth and put up with her wandering around the house when she got up, blocking her egress to certain parts of the house with baby gates. Greg and I recently found her in the middle of our bed one morning, neither of us knowing how or when she got there. However, I suspected she had woken him and he had silently acquiesced to he climbing in bed, shushing her so she wouldn't wake me.

I don't know why Greg became such a devoted father, but I have a feeling it has to do with the fact that he attacks everything new with gusto. He started out being fascinated with Annie's mental and physical development as a newborn and then, when his enthusiasm might have waned, she smiled at him. I think that was the day he became a real father.

oxxxxxxx*****oxxxxxxo*****xxxxxxo

House laughed at the sight of her. Annie's arms had shot into the air begging to be picked up. She was cranky, having just woken up from her nap. Her lower lip bulged and quivered out as more tears appeared in the corner of her big blue eyes.

"Daddy, hold me." She demanded with an attitude that sounded strangely like him.

"You weigh a ton; you'll break my back." He lied as he leaned down and picked her up, pulling her top down over her tummy as he did.

House took Annie out to the kitchen and found a clean sippy cup, filled it with milk and gave it to her. Putting her down, he walked over and poured himself a glass of milk too. He'd become a milk addict since he wasn't allowed to drink alcohol, at least not yet. They went over to the table; an old craftsman styled oak table they had found at a garage sale which Darcy renovated, and sat together drinking their milk. House stared out the window at the back yard and shook his head in amazement. He thought he'd miss his apartment, which Foreman had bought when House complained about two mortgages, but he didn't. He loved sitting out in the back listening to the wind in the leaves of the maples, oaks and pines and the gurgling of the creek as it dropped over rocks and exited to the north of their property.

Funny, he thought of it as 'their' house, not just his. He doubted that he could live in it without Darcy. Her vision, her eye for beauty, had made the house a showpiece. Several magazine articles had been written about it, both locally and nationally. According to those who knew better, the house, with its massive windows and sturdy wood surround, blended into its surroundings making it feel as if you were sleeping outdoors with nature.

He'd only been upstairs once since moving into the house. Darcy had her office in the loft area at the head of the landing. One of the bedrooms upstairs was a guest room for now and the other would eventually become a little girl's room. But House stayed on the ground floor where everything he needed was located. His bedroom with ensuite bathroom, the nursery, the eat-in kitchen, formal dining area, grand room (which was large enough for his musical instruments and his piano), laundry/mud room and a half bath were all on the ground floor. But more importantly they had added a media/library room to the downstairs design. It was House's favorite room. He was surrounded with books and a huge flat screen television on the west wall. Four Napa leather theater loungers graced the room despite Darcy's kicking and screaming, complaining that he had no taste in furniture. The modest house plan had grown from 2,000 square feet to 3,100 square feet plus a two car garage with a granny flat above it. There had been some modifications to the back yard to insure a little toddler wouldn't toddle down to the creek, but when she was older they'd remove the plexi-glass fence and boulders that had been fashioned to allow a view but restrict access.

The one thing House couldn't stop feeling was a constant fear that this would all disappear from his life. But the one thing that kept him from being in complete panic mode was the fact that his Annie, the one that had been with him all his life, was still a presence. He felt her presence in Darcy all the time. The integration had resulted in some strange manifestations. For one thing, Darcy's laugh was all Annie. It was louder, happier and contagious. And, more surprising, Darcy laughed a lot more than usual. They also fought more than before and now there was more pouting and disappearing like Annie used to do, but then Darcy's personality would dominate and her logical mind would find resolutions before any real damage had been done to the relationship. In bed, Darcy was much more willing to be playful like Annie yet she was like Darcy, sensual, seductive and mysterious; between the two they were wearing him out.

Darcy seemed to be as creative and as good at her career as before although she was adding more whimsical things to her designs, surely an expression of Annie's presence. After House's house hit the national magazines, she had a waiting list for homes to be built. Despite warning her clients that it might be years before she could design their house, Darcy still had people patiently waiting their turn.

Thanks to Annie, Darcy excelled in motherhood, being both intuitive and objective. House loved the way Darcy interacted with Annie, allowing the house to get into disarray while she played and taught Annie her colors, ABC's and numbers. House knew he was really watching Annie teaching her daughter because no way in hell would Darcy have let the house get so disheveled and work go untouched for hours, even days on end just to spend time with a little girl.

House had tried surreptitiously to run medical problems by Darcy, but she'd just smile and shrug—until the day she came to the hospital and saw the white board.

"You know, you're missing something up there." She shook her head. "It's like I know there's something wrong, but I can't retrieve it." She stared for several minutes while little Annie amused herself with House's felt ball.

"Any ideas? Because I'm out of them." House said grimly.

"I keep thinking about this guy who I must have read about in the newspaper. He was about fourteen and he was at school one day sitting next to this kid who wanted to be a doctor. The fourteen year old fell over, passed out and convulsed. The doctor wannabe knew that the kid had just come back from a trip to Arizona. He told them that the kid had a virus..."

"Henry! That was Henry Coolidge, my best friend. He had Hantavirus!" House yelled. "But my patient hasn't been in the southwest."

"Well, maybe he's been around rats from the Southwest. Does he have any friends who've moved here from the southwest?"

House threw his hands in the air. "Easier to treat than ask questions."

Darcy nodded. "Fine. Annie and I are taking off."

"Oh, yeah. Where'd the rug rat go?"

"She's in there playing with your skeleton now." Darcy pointed in the direction of House's office. Inside was Wilson holding Annie in one arm and dancing the skeleton like a puppet with the other. "Uncle James wanted some Annie time."

House couldn't blame Wilson; Annie was extremely entertaining, fearless and blessed with a curiosity that put House to shame. Each day they discovered something new together...or at least new for Annie. House was flabbergasted that his little girl was shoveling in so much information so quickly. If he could love anyone unconditionally, it was her, but maybe that was because she loved him unconditionally—at least for now. House wasn't sure he'd survive her teenage years, but he wasn't sure he'd survive at all. After all the drug and alcohol abuse and multiple heart attacks, House knew he'd screwed with his chance to see his daughter graduate from college. So, he had decided to enjoy and dote on her now, to leave an impression that would last her lifetime.

House looked up and saw the love of his life standing over the other love of his life and had to smile. Darcy was shaking her head at House.

"Don't grin at me, I told you that giving her a whole sippy cup of milk in the afternoon will ruin her dinner!"

"Mommy- Daddy and me will grow strong now!"

"Annie's right, Mommy, milk has calcium and all the essential amino acids. That will make us both grow big and strong so that we can pin you down and take your purse!"

Annie nodded and grinned in conspiracy, climbing down and then back up into House's lap, automatically sitting on his left thigh. Darcy took Annie's seat and looked over at the Dynamic Duo. Their lives weren't perfect, they had a few things to iron out and she knew her daughter was going to give her a run for her money, but Darcy couldn't deny that they were a family with or without a marriage certificate.

**The End**

**Dear Readers: Thank you once again for reading my story. If you enjoyed it, I hope you leave a review...if you didn't, I'm sorry and hope to do better the next time I write a story. I'm not happy with Season 7 of House and hope they redeem House and the show in season 8 (which I believe will be its final season.) I feel a deep longing for the House I fell in love with and no longer see on television. I also feel sad that my 'House infatuation' is fading and I'm moving away from fanfic. This doesn't mean I won't write a story here and there, but it will be awhile. Thank you so much for going along with me on this journey and for those who have faithfully read everything I've written, I'm very grateful for your steadfastness.**

**I'm going to devote myself to my own fictional novel and perhaps will self publish it under Barnes and Noble's "Pubit." The stories on Pubit run usually between $1.99-5.99. We'll see. So keep a lookout for Kim Brogan in Pubit...maybe a few months from now! Thanks again for reading, your kindness and reviews have been so enouraging. Without them I doubt I would have continued past my first fanfic, _The Eye of Newt._**

**Again, thank you for taking time out of your daily grind to read my little stories._ Love, Kim_**


End file.
